Under Thin Ice
by Batmanskipper
Summary: Three years ago Kowalski and Hans met Skipper, Rico and Private on a polar expedition at the same time as he lost the love of his life to a tragic accident. At least, he thought she was dead until he saw he in the background of a photograph, seemingly in danger. Unable to lose Doris again Kowalski and the team will risk everything to rescue her, but why is she running from them?
1. Chapter 1

Three Years Ago

…"What a nice little band we're becoming, robin hood and his merry men." Private smiled looking on at the six strong group in the midst of the crowd of other excited arctic explorers wanting breakfast (and their table). It was just like New York in a lot of ways, I have to say. There was a sad tinge to Private's smile though. This would be our last breakfast together for some time, even if things had gone to plan.

"And woman." Hans added across the table nodding to the female member of the group who rolled her eyes.

"I still figure dames don't belong on an expedition like this." Skipper muttered. He and his partner Rico were stood further back from the table leaning against a stack of crates, Rico cleaning and loading a shotgun, Skipper tinkering with some piece of gear.

"I've got brains, not just looks, and I'll bet I'm a hell of a lot tougher than you are!" Doris retorted. Doris never had much time for Skipper as we neared the end of the trip, for obvious reasons, though I, myself, had actually grown to like gruff, dry witted military… well, we weren't exactly sure where he came from, only that he was here to guard Private. Skipper went to rebut the claim that she was tougher, but Doris wasn't done, "And can I offer you another friendly reminder the year is 2010, not 1950?" Skipper muttered something about being very well aware of the date, and went back to messing with some piece of equipment of another. He was particularly grumpy that day, quiet too, like he was thinking about something, his mood seems trivial in hindsight. So trivial.

I'm getting ahead of myself, putting Heisenberg's uncertainty principle before Newton's first law.

I should introduce our little group as we were that sunny day, freshly arrived in the wilds of Antarctica – Leopard Seal country – enjoying breakfast, our last breakfast for some of us, on the submarine before we went our respective ways. I haven't introduced myself yet, probably the best place to start traditionally – those of me who know me well will have deduced from my absentmindedness that I'm tinkering with something in my lab as I write this (I may have also forgotten to carry the two at the same time) – so I'll start there: my name's Kowalski, I've got a longer name but you probably already know it and if you don't it's completely irrelevant and unnecessary. A couple of years before this I'd graduated with a string of degrees related to engineering and applies sciences, _egregia cum laude_, naturally, and it was around then I'd met Hans and we'd decided to risk it all searching for the gold at the end of the rainbow. Black gold, oil. We never found that, but we found something almost as good, though at the same time as I'd lose something worth more to me than all the money in the world.

Hans, as I mentioned before, was what can only be described as an 'explorer' – me as well, since we worked as partners - at the time. He'd gotten a tip from a friend who was too drunk to know he was giving a tip that there was something to be found on the fringes of Leopard Seal country and we'd packed up the returns from our last minor gold vein and sunk it all into this. He had a friend in the diplomatic service, who had a friend headed out there and so somehow he wangled us onto this trip.

'Private' as we all called him was the friend of Hans' friend in the diplomatic service, a young "fresh-faced, idealistic and too naive for his own good pencil pusher playing at Commodore Danger", Skipper described him as. He actually didn't do too badly and managed to put Penguin and the Leopard Seal colonies on better terms. Rico had once told me something about Private's having had a shady past in the underground mini golf rackets, but Private was too young to have had any kind of a shady past and just didn't seem like the type.

Skipper and Rico were assigned to Private, who, against all probability, somehow managed to get along with them, to make sure he got to Antarctica alive. I'd asked near the beginning of the trip what use just the _two_ of them would be against Leopard Seal if something went wrong but Private had just scoffed and said "plenty." By the time I'd reached Antarctica I'd heard from six people (now in the medical bay) who'd tried to pick a fight with either or both of them that they'd barely know what had happened between throwing the first punch and extreme physical pain. Of course, two armed, highly trained penguin commandos whose flippers alone were deadly weapons could only go as far as we'd gone for diplomatic reasons and Private was going to have to conduct his negotiations alone. Thus, rather than sit around the submarine for two weeks like they were supposed to waiting for him, they'd opted to tag along with me, Hans and Doris.

Ah, Doris. Doris was a marine biologist, a brilliant one in my opinion having read her paper on the effect of Leopard Seal overfishing on the salmon populations of Alaska, but that was just what she did for a living. No, to me she was the most beautiful girl in the world. Physically she had perfect features in line with the ideal human facial proportions, height and lack of physique consistent with what most people believe to be aesthetically attractive and eyes I'd often lose myself in. But there was something else that Private says he considers the mark of true love: that something extra that draws two people together entirely illogically but inextricably. At the time I believed that if something couldn't be quantified and analysed it didn't exist, and it wasn't until I met her I discovered there is an exception to that rule. I'd only known Doris for the duration of the trip but I knew she was the one for me already. I'd love her as long as she lived. In fact, I'd proposed to her a few days before. She'd accepted.

It was a long, gruelling journey through frigid temperatures, treacherous slopes and uncharted territory. Skipper and Rico loved it, and Doris and Hans considered it worth it for their respective goals, but I personally would have highly proffered to have been in my lab. When I'd said that to Skipper he'd called me a Nancy Cat and when I'd grumbled about that to Hans he'd replied that I wouldn't find any kind of treasure in a lab. Skipper, despite what I've said so far, was great to have on the trip, even if he did tell one too many stories about Manfredi and Johnson. He saved my life at least twice and taught me how to do all that fancy climbing stuff I'd needed to traverse the vast expanses of ice.

Doris soldiered on as focused and single minded as she would become at times like this. I figure that was how she managed to get through a PhD whilst still fighting actively for her brother's case – apparently he'd been accused of plagiarizing his thesis and his doctorate was in jeopardy. She really wanted to find those _Actinopterygii_ specimens. While the expedition was supposed to be mostly mine and Hans' she ended up leading the way. I didn't mind in the least, and oddly enough neither did Skipper.

This is the part that changed my life, both in a trivial way and important way. We tried an inlet where Doris hoped to find some of this rare specimen she was after but it didn't happen. Instead that was when me and Hans found our treasure, namely more fish than we'd ever seen in our lives, enough to make us very comfortable for a long time if we managed to snag the fishing rights for a song like we undoubtable could. That should give you a measure of how important what happened next was if that was trivial.

We were confronted with a sheer face of ice, practically, with the occasional ledge but nothing else. I never really processed what happened next despite the fact I memorized every report and fact and sat through the whole coroner's hearing and was actually there. Hans had me see a therapist and she gave me a lot of fancy names and stuff, post-traumatic stress syndrome was a common one, but there wasn't much she could do to bring back Doris.

I was already quite far up that section of cliff with Skipper and Rico. In fact, me and Rico were already started on the third and final section and so were unable to get down fast enough to help when it happened. Skipper had just gotten up the second, standing at the top of the ledge, about to start belaying Doris and Hans below. Hans was waiting and glancing at his watch impatiently and Doris had just set her feet on the ground after conquering the drop before that. It was only Skipper down there and a whole lot of bad luck, but he did his best, more than I'd expect any man could do. I don't blame him at all.

Doris took a step forward onto the ice proper and suddenly it all cracked away under her meagre weight, the straw that broke the camel's back. It was amazing to watch as the whole floor of ice crumbled away beneath them when a single air pocket riddled section of ice, the keystone of the whole structure, collapsed. The two only fell a few feet thanks to their harnesses and were hanging over the edge of the abyss at a dead drop from the side of the cliff.

Skipper hadn't been ready to take the weight, he had been fixing the belaying equipment at the time, and when they fell Skipper was attached on too and was being pulled over the edge. He managed to grab hold of a small crack in the ice or something and disentangled himself from the rope, but he kept holding on to them though it was practically killing him. The ice face had actually slanted outwards so there was no hope of either of them regaining footing and the gigantic black maw below Doris seemed to go on forever. Even before Skipper said it we knew one of them had to be cut. Skipper could pull up either Hans - barely - or Doris, but he couldn't take the weight of both. And we didn't have long to decide either before he lost his grip on the rope and both of them tumbled to their deaths or they pulled him over. Me and Rico were racing down to help him but we knew we wouldn't make it in anywhere near enough time. They had seconds.

Doris already had the knife out and was about to... when Hans shouted at her to stop and put her knife away. He was going to do it. Hans later told me he'd seen that special, unexplainable thing between me and Doris. We were just business partners and while he was sad to admit it he didn't really have anyone not on this expedition who'd miss him more than they'd want the life insurance policy on him.

Hans went to slice the line when suddenly Doris screamed and the rope below him snapped or one of the clips broke, as the inquest later determined – an anomaly fault in the steel. The world seemed to speed up for me even though these kinds of things are supposed to be in slow motion. I saw her face, her eyes wide with fear and then she was gone, vanished into the black hole beneath her.

We broke every rule in the book going down to look for her, but we went down and down and never found her. Eventually, Skipper said enough was enough. We could hear a stream of water, a tributary or something that gurgling down at the bottom. He figured she'd been washed down a stream in the ice out to sea.

It's unrealistic, but every time I close my eyes I can see her still form freezing over, ice sealing in her broken, pale body in at a remarkable rate like a coffin.

* * *

Now

"I told you he'd be late." Skipper spoke as the head and shoulders of the familiar face barely appeared above the crowd at the entrance of the Zoo. Private was glancing left and right and just about stuttering as he asked if anyone had seen them.

"_I _told you he'd be nervous and he is." Hans commented.

"Cor' ee nervous." Rico scoffed over the noise of the crowd, "ee Private."

"I'd have picked somewhere that didn't remind him of Mr Tux, but Marlene practically begged me to attend her opening." Kowalski apologised, "I estimate it will take him approximately 35.7746 seconds to find us." he added, though he said it quietly. He'd assured Marlene he had nowhere near the mathematical abilities to count cards effectively on Zoo 'game nights' and that would be just the kind of thing that would prove he could. Nothing galled him more than to have to hide his genius, but he wanted to be able to impress Skipper with something. At least, that was what Hans theorised he was thinking. But then Kowalski had been unusually quiet that entire evening even though he'd been the one to suggest the little get together on hearing that Skipper and Rico were on leave and Private was in the country at the same time.

"In the meantime, Skipper, I forgot to ask you about your new posting." Hans asked studying the table and deciding on red just before "no more bets" was called.

"Ask a classified question and you'll get a classified answer, Hans." Skipper replied. Hans shrugged, "I'll tell you this, though, it beats sitting around boardrooms and talking about fish, even if it's a lot of fish."

"It certainly does," Hans sighed. He looked over at Kowalski who was intently examining the floor, "We yearn for the good old days of adventure and mayhem, don't we?" And, for the first time in long enough Skipper had been starting to get worried, Kowalski looked up, seemingly angry.

"It was those good old days of..." He paused and seemed to check himself, "They were alright, statistically." He abandoned his chair and started off through the crowd towards the exit. Private, who'd just arrived loaded with stories of the far east, gave skipper an odd look.

"He's alright, Private, I think he just needs some time to himself." Skipper muttered in reply, but contrary to his statement started off through the crowds after Kowalski.

He caught up to him just outside the closed door where you could still hear the noise of game night, but only soft murmurs on the summer night air. It was nice weather, summers in New York could get pretty scorching, but today was just right.

"Doris, I'm guessing." Skipper inquired and Kowalski barely acknowledged him, ""It was those good old days of adventure and mayhem that got Doris killed."" He finished where Kowalski had trailed off. Kowalski nodded, just barely, "It's not that common, but sometimes the equipment goes wrong and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I know, I've never blamed you."

"I didn't mean me."

"I don't blame myself either."

"Yeah, right."

"The 99.998% of my brain that I have impeccable control of is well aware of the fact that…"

"But the whatever per cent left over thinks you could have done something, that's always the way." Skipper cut him off.

"How would you know, that's 'always the way'." Kowalski countered, suddenly on guard. Being 'not alone', one in a million worked for a lot of people, but he was a genius. It insulted him somehow to be not to be unique, just in there with the rest. It was a superiority complex, but he'd worked hard to be superior. He figured he deserved it.

"Not while you still blow up inventions, you aren't superior." Skipper countered Kowalski's unspoken sentiment and Kowalski outright scowled at him, "Hans told me about those. He says the fellows in the other labs look at their watches, nod gravely at each other, tie down anything breakable and wait for 'fire in the hole!'."

"You make explosions for a living, or is that Rico, who are you to judge?" Kowalski replied. It was a flawed and easily countered defence but Skipper seemed stymied, that, or he'd had enough of arguing and knew it wouldn't stop till the scientist won. No, that didn't sound like Skipper. Or was that just his bruised ego telling him that? No, prior experience showed that skipper never backed away from a fight. All that rushed through his head in barely a fraction of a second and he was back to Doris again.

"I once knew a girl…" Skipper trailed off, "You never forget them, if that's what you're waiting to happen. They're always with you somewhere."

"What happened to her?" Kowalski asked on impulse. Skipper's expression darkened and he didn't reply. Thoughtlessly, Kowalski was going to press him for an answer, he had a sudden craving to know, but Hans poked his head out of the door, interrupting them.

"You two alright?" Hans asked.

"Yeah, yeah sure." Skipper replied vaguely believably and Hans smiled. Skipper smiled back and gave him a loving peck on the cheek, "No need to be jealous of Kowalski, though I'm flattered by it. I'll be back in a minute. Keep Rico from blowin' up Marlene's place on opening night, okay?" Hans went back inside.

"You and Hans?" Kowalski asked. Skipper shrugged.

"As of the start of my leave, yes. Me and him have got a lot of things in common. Come on, I've got to get you back to card counting for me." He started off down the road again and Kowalski followed, "It's been fun while it's lasted, but that's all it's gonna be. I'm away too much, same as Private and Cupid, though he likes to convince himself he's there for her. If you promise not to tell, I know from a reliable source she's cheating on him."

"Skipper." Kowalski paused, "I've got a headache…" He automatically cursed himself for such a bad excuse but Skipper seemed happy to run with it.

* * *

Kowalski really hadn't been feeling well. Headaches, he got headaches when he thought too hard and for too long about Doris. He was tired but couldn't sleep and eventually settled out under the stars on the balcony, but he still couldn't sleep and he couldn't think about Doris or inventions or the price of fish either. He grabbed the latest Invexpo journal but read one word and forget the one he'd read before, eventually realizing he was deciphering word after word having no idea what the article was about. He needed something that didn't need much thinking, something he normally wouldn't read. He grabbed an old newspaper he'd picked up somewhere to cover the countertop while he reacted a couple of handy chemicals on a whim and took a glance at the cover. It was a picture of Notre Dame, once again he couldn't make even make sense of the headline, but Notre Dame was pretty. He'd been there, once…? twice…? maybe three times before, with Hans. He'd wanted to go to Paris with Doris. He winced. His head really did hurt.

Then he saw it. At first he thought it was his imagination but even then he compulsively went for the magnifying glass and examined the bottom corner of the photograph. He just about dropped the newspaper and the magnifying glass in shock. Immediately he made a dive for his phone, the only thing he could possibly think of doing, and called Hans.

"Yes?" The Dane grumbled into the phone.

"She's alive, Hans, I don't know how but she was standing in front of Notre Dame on…" he checked the date, "yesterday!"


	2. Chapter 2

Kowalski burst into the apartment like wild horses couldn't hold him back.

"For something so important you're quite tardy." Hans commented. Rico chuckled in agreement. Skipper seemed to be sitting rather childishly with his back to Hans as Hans was equally going out of his way to avoid eye contact with Skipper.

"I waited 27.3 minutes for the A." Kowalski muttered dismissively before continuing, "I hardly believed it myself but she was right there on the front cover!"

"And I suppose you want us to help you rescue her from him, hm?"

"Of course we'll help you." Private answered promptly, "I'm so glad to hear Doris is alive and well, or not so well as Hans implies."

"The rest of you in?" Skipper asked, looking expectantly at everyone – daring them to disobey him – except Hans. The rest really only consisted of Rico who shrugged as if to say he'd go anywhere Skipper was going, "Now let's see what we're up against. Kowalski?" But Kowalski hadn't brought the newspaper with him, "Hans, see if you can find a copy of the paper somewhere in this building."

"Which one?" Hans asked and on receiving the name returned around thirty seconds later with the desired paper and spread it across the desk. Immediately Skipper snatched the magnifying glass identifying Doris and seemingly the man next to her immediately and studied the section intently. Then he slammed the glass down so hard Private was afraid it would break before Rico took it up immediately and had the same kind of reaction, only the more violent Rico version. The magnifying glass did not survive.

"Doris _has_ gotten herself into trouble," Skipper exclaimed, "that's Blowhole!"

"Blowhole?" Kowalski asked.

"Dr Blowhole," Private explained, "Criminal, wanted internationally for a variety of things – he'll do anything for money. Skipper considers him his arch enemy." The concern in the room was too great for any of them to leap on the clue as to Skipper and Rico's employment like they usually would, and Skipper and Rico too worried to berate Private for revealing it.

"Get us on the next plane to Paris, Private." Skipper ordered.

"But what about you?" Hans countered, "You can't just run off..."

"I haven't." Private replied, "Skipper's taken me into hiding. Dr Blowhole's after me."

"Dr Blowhole's not after you."

"He will be when we've rescued Doris." Skipper countered, "Rico, gimme another magnifying glass." The glass was produced from seemingly nowhere and Skipper went back to examining the photo, "Private, I told you to get us on the next plane to Charles De Gaul…!"

"Kowalski." Hans spoke in a low tone tapping Kowalski on the shoulder and leading him quietly out of the room.

"What?" Kowalski asked when they were outside. Skipper, Private and Rico had all been too busy booking flights, examining photographs and providing replacements for magnifying glasses broken in frustration to notice them slip out.

"I can see they're all pretty zealous to help out," Hans began cautiously, "But I think you should reconsider allowing them to come. It would be better if it was just us."

"What makes you say that?" Kowalski's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "You and Skipper had some kind of a disagreement…"

"Yes, we might have, it was minor. Skipper says this Blowhole is his arch enemy, wouldn't that make him and Rico likely to sacrifice everything, including Doris, to capture him?"

"Well maybe… What about Private?"

"He has other obligations that I'm sure he will rank above Doris."

"Really, Hans, if this is all because of your argument with Skipper…"

"An even better reason: Skipper will be too busy trying to get even with me to search for Doris."

"Now that's a little farfetched…"

"But one of many factors that will add up to making him ineffective… Look," Hans glanced uncomfortably at the door, "I know a pilot who can get us to Paris in half the time, we could leave now and fly out in half an hour, just the two of us."

"I have a feeling Skipper has some experience in these kinds of things…"

"And so do I. What's the difference between looking for fish or gold and looking for Doris?"

* * *

"Hans, you…" Skipper growled but the rest of the sentence much too Private's relief was inaudible, "He goes a long way over a small argument."

"But weren't you going to leave Hans behind?" Private questioned. Immediately Skipper clammed up on the topic.

"Whatever could have given you that idea?" He replied shortly, "Well, we've gotta catch up with them."

"There's only one commercial flight with two seats available leaving from any of the nearby airports and that going to leave in half an hour." Private commented, "As for charters, we haven't any hope, they might have taken any plane from any small or large airport under any name…"

"Weath'r's 'eribble." Rico countered, "'ey ain' leave yet. N'less…" A grin spread across his face at the same time as Skipper who whipped out his phone and started scrolling through the contacts.

"Who's 'King Julian'?" Private asked reading the screen, ""Leader of Lemurs, The King of Cool, The Monarch with the Most, The Sovereign of Soul, Master of Dancing - Hireable Pilot?"

"The only pilot crazy enough to try to fly the Atlantic in this kind of weather, I've used him before." Skipper replied, "And I'll bet her just took off. We'll catch him in Paris, he takes bribes." Private was more than a little disturbed by the fact Skipper said "he takes bribes" in the same way one would say "he takes cards".

* * *

"Petey!" a skinny man with shocking white hair and a pilot's uniform that seemed to barely fit on his wiry frame exclaimed on sighting Skipper. Skipper grimaced, "You should have been saying you were Petey, not using that stupidy name Skipper…"

"Petey was just a name I used on a job; Skipper's what I go by." Skipper corrected. Julian's face morphed comically into one of pure shock. A tear seemed to well in his eye.

"You are meaning you are not Petey?" Julian sniffed dramatically, "You lied to me?! You are telling me you are Petey when you are really this Skipper-y person?"

"Listen, Julian, I need some help…"

"No!" Julian snapped stomping his foot and crossing his arms, sniffing and tilting his nose up in the air, "I am not helping people who are lying to me…"

"Fine, I was joking, my name's Petey." Skipper finally admitted and Private barely supressed a giggle, "I need some help finding a friend, I think he hired you and your plane a couple of days ago." Julian had cleaned himself off in a matter of seconds and was now looking at Skipper with what was probably meant to pass as nonchalance, adjusting his cuffs with a flourish. All he accomplished by this was to make the sleeves of his shirt billow comically out from his jacket.

"And you are willing to be a patron of the arts?"

"What have the arts got to do with it?" Private asked, bewildered.

"He's a dancer." Skipper answered, "Yeah, sure, I'm prepared to make a certain donation. How does fifty dollars sound?"

"I can see you really do not appreciate dance…"

"Fine, seventy five?"

"It is rare to find someone who truly understands de congaga…"

"One hundred." Julian's eyes lit up and he practically leapt over to where Skipper was writing the amount on the check.

"You are truly de philanthropist, Petey." Julian grinned stuffing the check into his pocket, "Now, is there any way I can be repaying your generosity?"

"Do the names Kowalski and Hans mean anything to you?" Julian just stared blankly. Skipper fished two photographs out of his pocket, copies of their passport photographs, "These two?"

"Ah yes, I am recognising them." He pointed to Hans, "He is de one with de funny accent," he pointed to Kowalski, "And he is the one who is always making up words like 'hypothesis', who would be making a word as crazy sounding as…"

"Did you overhear anything about where they'd be going, what they intended to do? Tell me everything about them."

"They just did a lot of talking about this girl 'Doris'." Julian replied with a shrug, "The Kowalski complain-ed when the ride got a little bumpy but that was all. They got off and grabbed a taxi; I didn't see the licence plate. But he drop-ed something... Maurice!" There was a thump of footsteps and out of the hanger came a man in grey coveralls who looked just about exhausted, carrying a wrench and covered in grease, "Be giving Petey the piece of paper Kowalski dropped."

"Sure thing, your majesty." Maurice replied without the slightest hint of sarcasm. He fished about in his pocket and then handed Skipper a slip of paper containing an address in Kowalski's handwriting, "What kinda arch villains are you chasing this time, Skipper?"

"His name is Petey, Maurice!"

"Classified, Maurice," Skipper replied, "But you're first on the list if I need someone to get past fingerprint readers." Maurice grinned and his voice dropped to almost inaudibility, "Thanks, but I don't think it's safe to leave him alone five minutes. He's gotten it in his head he wants to learn to tap dance on a tightrope."

"Ah don' stranger." Rico shrugged.

"A tightrope tied between two jumbo jets at cruising altitude."

* * *

"So you wanna find the doc?" The man in the red t-shirt drawled in perfect English. Kowalski was pretty sure he was American. One of the ways Hans had found the man was by asking the selectively as well as generally short sighted land lady if there were any Americans in the building. Hans still had his contacts from their days of adventure, people who kept their ear to the ground, but it had still been a gruelling journey to find someone who'd heard of - or admit they'd heard of – the elusive Dr Blowhole. Most people said he was only a myth, "I know a good doc, back in New York."

"We're looking for Dr _Blowhole_, and we know for a fact he's in Paris at this moment." Hans countered.

"Where's Doris?" Kowalski cut in unable to contain his frustration, but Hans silenced him.

"It is not only your duty, but you will be arrested for obstructing justice if you do not tell me where he is." Hans spoke sternly. The red shirted man just rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Agent Hans, FBI." He flashed his wallet, his driver's licence specifically, but too fast for the 'Red One', as Blowhole's associates were called, to see more than a blur that looked official and contained a photograph. Immediately the red one was noticeably spooked.

"Blowhole's just a legend, alright?" He stuttered, "He doesn't really exist!"

"Pull the other one." Hans snapped. The red one would sweat and say a lot of things but none of them got them any closer to finding Blowhole. However, even as they left empty handed Hans didn't seem the least bit discouraged and Kowalski had worked out exactly why as they drove around the block and then parked in a side street where they had a good view of the door of the rooming house they'd just left.

"Don't you think the FBI's a little out of their jurisdiction?" Kowalski asked.

"I'd always wanted to say that, I guess it just slipped out." Hans replied grinning wildly. Kowalski wondered if Hans had missed his calling and should have gone in for something like what Skipper did instead. Kowalski noticed the door of the building open and the red one shot out of the door and into a car parked a little further down the way, "Apparently he didn't think so."

"What about that number he convinced you to give him?" Kowalski asked.

"Blowhole will be searching some random place for us – I just made that number up[ss2] – but hopefully by then we'll know where he is first."

* * *

"Skippah, are you sure this is legal?" Private asked tentatively as Rico swiped the magnetic card in the lock and the door opened. Skipper, meanwhile, was doing the same to the door three down, "I mean, you aren't really with MI6, Uncle Nigel would know you…"

"They can look it up and they'll see I am." Skipper replied confidently. Private's expression brightened.

"So that's what you two are…!"

"No, I'm not with MI6, but there's someone who looks a lot like me on their data base that I borrowed the name of." Private returned to worrying but reluctantly followed Skipper into the hotel room, "Anyway, Hans and Kowalski are amateurs, good amateurs, but amateurs. They're liable to get themselves killed if we don't find them. Then I'll never get even with Hans."

"Oh, alright." Private muttered accepting the justification, though he still just stood there rather awkwardly as Skipper started on the desk meticulously examining every drawer and everywhere there could be a drawer. He put everything back in his place, though, which private was glad of, though he knew it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart but out of a desire to make sure Hans had no evidence he'd searched the room. In fact, he was actually wearing gloves. Private wasn't sure what they'd been arguing about, but they certainly took it seriously. Very seriously, if Skipper thought Hans might try to get him arrested, "Skippah, are you sure what happened to Doris was an accident?" Skipper glanced back at Private, slightly confused.

"Yeah, fault in the steel, fault in the ice, two pieces of bad luck at the same time adds up to an accident." He replied picking the lock on a steel strongbox.

"Well, I mean, she's not dead, and that was a bit of a drop…"

"There were ledges, bits of ice she could have grabbed on to. Could have climbed her way up, could have been picked up by Blowhole since he was in Antarctica at that time – I couldn't go with you to talk to the Leopard Seals, I was protecting you from Blowhole."

"But I mean, it's rather a rare flaw for a bit of climbing equipment to outright break… Maybe it was faked or something, maybe Doris had debts she couldn't afford to pay or a relative who needed the insurance money…" Private trailed off when he realized Skipper was laughing, "What?"

"Private, you've been watching too many movies." Skipper sighed, "Do you have any idea how hard it is to fake that kind of accident without me knowing about it? I checked the gear myself before we left and it hadn't been tampered with. Doris didn't strike me as the type with the resources to prepare a fault in the steal so meticulously that I wouldn't spot it. There would have been cables, nets, harnesses down there that they would have had to have gotten rid of _fast_. I would have heard them being taken too; I'd have found traces in the ice where it had been attached. It was an accident, all right, what Blowhole's got to do with it I don't know." Private considered asking Skipper if this was a form of self-blame at not having searched thoroughly enough to have found Doris before Blowhole did but decided it wasn't such a good idea. He didn't want to get in a long argument like Hans and Skipper.

"Nothin' 'n 'walski's room." Rico reported, "Jus' th' oosual."

"Well I've got something, they've rented a car," skipper tossed the scrap of paper – an impression on the notepad, actually that instructed Kowalski to pick up the car while Hans made some calls - to Rico, "Get me it's licence plate."

"Stay right there, Rico." A voice unknown to Private, but seemingly much known to Skipper and Rico, countered. All eyes were quickly on the newcomer stood in the doorway. Private noticed he had an odd kind of boot, it was barely visible, but when he walked Private could see some kind of spike at the back with a slight green tinge.

"Who sold us out, this time, Parker?" Skipper asked grimly.

"Little bird told me." Parker replied though the man looked somewhat uneasy or maybe surprised, Private couldn't tell. It seemed to be just him and a few guys in red t-shirts. Skipper could take them easily on his own never mind with Rico. Private had seen those red shirted guys attack Skipper before out of nowhere – Private hadn't known they worked for Blowhole then – and Skipper had them down in ten seconds tops ending with a witty remark about lobsters and fighting not being their strongpoint. Private didn't see the link between lobsters and Blowhole's associates, but it sounded dashing.

Parker seemed to have realized he was under armed too. Private noticed his weight was all on his left foot, the boot that had the strange spike on it raised ever so slightly and ready to strike, but Skipper and Rico weren't really doing much. Private wasn't sure if he was supposed to do anything, maybe Skipper was waiting for him to attack first since he was in a strategic position to do so? Yes, that was exactly what Skipper was doing; Skipper certainly wasn't just giving up.

"Here goes." Private muttered as he took the initiative and launched himself at the lobsters. Skipper had taught him a trick or two, and those tricks seemed to be paying off. One lobster went down, "Dreadfully sorry!" But by the second and third he was too wrapped up in the excitement to remember to apologise before they lost consciousness. Soon he had them all down.

"Alright, junior, that's enough." Parker's voice interrupted and Private was given barely a second to appreciate his accomplishments. Skipper, it seemed, and Rico, hadn't faired so well against this Parker fellow. Rico was slowly picking himself up from the ground, his hands above his head in surrender and Skipper was caught in a very painful arm lock, "You wouldn't want me to break his arm, would you?"

Private officially didn't get it. Skipper could slip that lock easy. _Private_ could slip that lock easy. Still, there wasn't much to do but surrender. Skipper was up to something, but whatever he was up to, he probably couldn't do it with a broken arm, "Alright, I surrender." Private spoke quietly. Come to think of it, he was somewhat unsure of the protocol on how one was supposed to surrender. One of the conscious red ones pulling himself to his feet was quick to remind him, rather roughly.

Private was beginning to think things were pretty grim. He'd wondered how Parker intended to get them past the front desk – maybe they'd call the police – but he'd come up with the bright idea of handcuffing them, taking Skipper's MI6 ID and flashing it at the desk with his hand covering the photograph. All he got as they walked past was praise for capturing three nefarious criminals. Skipper still seemed entirely unperturbed. And that was when it hit private, he still had that lock pick. But Skipper didn't seem to want to use it.


	3. Chapter 3

Kowalski loved the thrill of the chase, or at least, the thrill of secretly following someone. It was exciting, if more than a little exhausting, to be constantly calculating the chances of the red one turning left or right, and after enough data on this, where their prey was going. It was, however, made twice as difficult since he had little knowledge of Paris' street. It wasn't a grid system like New York. It seemed a shame to just speed along across the Seine without so much as looking out the window at it, but on the other hand this was the way to Doris. Nothing would distract him from getting to Doris.

Kowalski's previous trip to Paris hadn't only been the sights and various fashionable neighbourhoods, he and Hans had been to the more industrial districts too and some areas where the projects made him feel more than a little uncomfortable. But that wasn't where their red shirted henchman went. They'd continued out of Paris, out into a mundane looking suburb. Perfect spot for a hideout, an area so ordinary nobody would look for a master criminal. But then it wasn't there either, of course, not everyone was Kowalski but they would work out _that_. No, they continued out into the countryside through some picturesque towns, some not so picturesque, and several grey and never ending ones.

However, the last town they passed through was entirely unique, it seemed like it had been exploded. The explosion appeared to have originated from the main street which now resembled more of a burned out trench, the debris extending to what were once the fronts of houses. It appeared the fire had spread from wood structure to wood structure but it was all cold cinders now with official looking signs on the doors. Kowalski couldn't read French, but he figured they said 'condemned, do not enter' or something to that effect. The whole hamlet was a ghost town as they weaved through the back streets keeping just out of sight of their prey, the main road was clearly unusable. Kowalski and Hans had seen a lot of things in their day but there was something eerie about the blackened emptiness.

"What could have possibly caused an explosion like that?" Hans thought aloud looking at the gash down the centre of the street as it passed into view in a gap between two houses.

"It looks like some kind of gas main explosion, times ten." Kowalski replied, "Worst I've ever seen."

"I'm not sure it was a gas leak." Hans countered thoughtfully, "I read up on this 'Dr Blowhole' – Skipper isn't alone in having knowledgeable friends – and this seems exactly the kind of thing he'd do. He wanted his own little town, he cleared it out for himself, and made it look like an accident." There was a grim thought: a whole town destroyed, people's belongings, livelihoods – lives too, undoubtable – destroyed all on the whim of one man; the monster that was currently holding Doris.

"We've got him." Kowalski commented noting the other car had disappeared into a driveway. Hans parked just out of sight and they stepped out, cautiously looking around the corner.

It was absolutely impossible. They'd been gone barely a second and the driveway was completely empty. It was a cul-de-sac, surrounded by the stone remains of three buildings and yet the car was gone without a trace. The tyre tracks, dark grey, smudged prints of charcoal from the burnt out buildings, just went straight through the wall. At first, the two of them were completely stunned.

"Wait a minute, I've seen this on TV before." Hans countered and jogged back to the car. He drove it forward, following the car's tracks exactly, "the weight of the car is going to cause the road to…" But nothing happened, and there were no secret routes or switches only visible from the car. It was just three cement walls and what might very well have been a forth for all the probability of the car getting out of it without them seeing. And they'd seen that car go into the cul-de-sac.

"What in science happened to that car!" Kowalski exclaimed.

"Ghosts took it." Hans scoffed dryly but Kowalski was in no mood for jokes amusing or otherwise.

"Hans, you're expecting me to believe that stone is not solid, that steel can pass through rock – or worse, that conservation of mass was all a lie and mass can just disappear off the face of the earth when it has a hankering for a vacation!" Kowalski snapped completely out of the blue, slamming his clipboard angrily at the wall with an ear splitting crack, "I observed all of this with my own eyes, I'm backed up by another competent observer too, and there is no question in this case that the evidence of our eyes is not to be…"

"Calm down, Kowalski." Hans interrupted, "trying to hack the wall down isn't going to get us anywhere." Kowalski lowered his clip board, but only after a pause long enough to calculate if it was worth the time to try to break the wall down with it.

* * *

Now Private got it. Skipper wanted to be caught. Of course, Skipper couldn't just give himself up without a fight, but really it wasn't a fight. It was all staged to lose. Private was certain of it when he saw Skipper tucking the lock pick into his sleeve that this was his game. He'd wanted to be caught so that they'd be taken to Blowhole and by extension Kowalski. Skipper certainly had some respect for Kowalski to have expected him to have found Blowhole already. But how had Parker even discovered their location in the first place?

"You gave it to us." Parker replied with a scoff, "You should keep a better eye on the pencil pusher, I'm assuming he was the one who handed us the number. What did you think, he wouldn't call it in and we wouldn't trace it?"

"When did I ever give you my number?" Skipper replied deciding to play their game instead of mentioning that they'd been breaking in to those hotel rooms.

"You interrogated one of Blowhole's, and gave him your number to call if he wanted to turn state's evidence." Private tried to look guilty as Skipper pretended to scold him for being so loose with information, though he could see Skipper's mind was half on piecing together Kowalski's plan for getting to Blowhole. He seemed to approve of whatever he'd deduced the plan as being from the limited information of someone impersonating an officer of the law. Private tried to discreetly ask Skipper what Kowalski was up to but Skipper had glared at him, silencing him just before Private asked him what Ikslawok (Kowalski backwards) was doing about his "girl problem". Private went quiet after that, left it to the experts.

"So, you handed us Private on a silver platter." Parker resumed, "I'm guessing that wasn't your objective. What are you really here for?"

"If you have to know, I'm working privately." Skipper replied cryptically, "I can't disclose my client's details, you know that Parker, you're in the same racket."

"Since when do they let _you_ go free lance?"

"Who sa' th' know?" Rico countered.

"You're here for Doris, aren't you?" Skipper didn't try to deny it.

"Okay, maybe I am. I'm doing a favour for a friend, he wants her found."

"You're not working for a 'friend', Skipper," Parker countered, and to Private's complete mystification seemed to find Skipper's statement amusing, "Unless it's one of those 'friends' you put in the place of your name when you want to ask a personal question without someone knowing the question's about you."

"He really is working for a friend of ours," Private defended, "His name's Kowalski…" Skipper looked like he wanted to knock Private's teeth out though since his hands were supposed to be restrained he silenced Private with a painful kick instead. But Private would have shut up anyway realizing what he'd just revealed.

"You're not working for Kowalski or Hans or anyone on that expedition," Parker countered, "None of them could possibly worked out what happened – but you and your contacts could." A sly smirk grew on Parker's face, "What if I told you since the accident she's been going with me?"

"I'd find that as hard for me to believe as you find me doing pro bono." Skipper replied but there was an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.

"Do you think that would make your 'friend' jealous?" Parker continued. Private didn't miss the irony of the statement. Kowalski certainly would be jealous, but Parker was obviously attempting to refer to Skipper. But that was ridiculous. Skipper and Doris had been driving each other crazy on the ship – it was dangerous to leave the two alone together, and when it did happen the probably could have heard the shouting in New York, "You wanna 'rescue' her Skipper? Believe me, she doesn't want to be rescued. She's been very happy these last three years, worst thing that happened to her was when she found out you guys no longer thought she was dead."

* * *

"This is insane!" Kowalski protested for around the fiftieth time, "It completely defies science! Completely! A car can't just drive into a blind alley and disappear! Mass is conserved…!"

"I get it, already." Hans grumbled. He was currently engaged in a brick by brick examination of the wall, and so far was finding nothing unusual about it, just a few cracks in the masonry but that was to be expected of a wall of this age, "Why don't you do some scientific exploration or whatever you call it and help me out?" Kowalski thought that was a sound idea and started on one of the other walls, but like Hans was finding nothing out of the ordinary.

"Why do people ruin elegant equations with avoidable mistakes?" Hans heard Kowalski sigh, peering down intently at a section of wall next to the driver's side window.

"It's just a bit of graffiti, Kowalski, leave it alone." Hans commanded as if he were talking to a young child.

"_Mathematical_ graffiti," Kowalski corrected, "And they forgot to carry the two, I mean, thank science this guy didn't get it in his head he was going to send this in to a journal or something like this…" He whipped out his pencil and with a childish grin corrected the error. Kowalski was about to go back to his examination of the wall when there was an almost inaudible grinding noise and the wall in front of Hans slid effortlessly upwards revealing a sloping tunnel leading downward and about half a dozen red ones waiting behind it. The red ones sized them up, and they certainly weren't in the most innocent positions.

"You must be Dr Park and his assistant." The first of the red ones greeted calmly, "Sorry, the door sticks a bit sometimes, you shoulda used the intercom."

"Yes, yes, thank you." Hans replied deciding that he was Dr Park, "Well, we're here now, I trust we were not too late?"

"Nah, you're half an hour early, but the whole schedule's been cut in half, we've gotta get you down to the gravitation ray." Obediently, they drove the car through to some kind of underground parking lot that looked like it might run under much of the farmland outside the village and stepped out following the directions of the red ones towards what almost certainly did not seem to be the way to Dr Blowhole and Doris.

However, going in the wrong direction was the least of their worries as they recognised one of the many red ones going in the direction of this and that. He recognised them too.

"Hold it right there!" He ordered jogging up to the group. Kowalski and Hans froze but somehow managed to keep outwardly somewhat calm, "That's Agent Hans of the FBI!" and then Hans burst out laughing. Kowalski thought he'd lost it, the lobster's thought he'd lost it, their witness thought he'd lost it.

"You've been exonerated, red one, there's no need to keep it up." Hans spoke and the other lobster wasn't quite sure how to react, "Nobody told you?" The red ones were still catatonic, "It was a routine security check, I agreed to confront you on my way here from the airport pretending to be an FBI agent, offering you sizable incentive to talk. You didn't talk, so you obviously are quite loyal." The other red ones seemed to accept this, laughing at the joke that had been played on the newcomer. Perhaps that was why the red one who'd confronted them was desperate to cling on to their actually being spies.

"Then what was that badge you showed me?"

"My driver's licence." Hans produced the identification, this time covering the name so he wouldn't be revealed as not being Dr Park, "Feel free to search me, you'll find no incriminating identification or weapons." The lobster looked as if he did intend to search Hans for the sake of saving face but the other lobsters had grown bored of the whole thing.

"Aw, lay off it, Larry." One of them grumbled and the lone lobster was left in the dust as Hans and Kowalski were ushered off.

They were left in an empty room with a gigantic, humming piece of machinery that's appearance of being something found only in science fiction instantly mesmerized Kowalski. Fortunately, they'd been left alone, unfortunately, there was no map or 'you are here' sign, not that they expected one. Kowalski didn't need to consult his clipboard to know the first thing they needed to do was get out of that room.

"Kowalski." Kowalski paused and looked back at Hans who was removing something from his pocket. He passed the cold, black automatic to Kowalski, "I think you're probably a better shot than me." Gingerly, Kowalski took the weapon and placed it in his own pocket.

Once out of the room and back into the bustling corridors – they all seemed to be very excited about something – they were once again at a loss as to where to go. The whole place was a rabbit warren with ten foot concrete ceilings. Kowalski pulled one of the red t-shirt clad henchmen aside.

"I'm looking for the main computer terminal…" He began to ask and the red one's eyes narrowed on the stranger.

"Why'd ya wanna know?" He asked suspiciously.

"Tech support – I got a call the main computer had crashed." This seemed to dispel the lobster's distrust.

"Haven't heard of that, but what the doc says goes. Third door on your left, turn right after that then look for the door marked 'scheming room'. Ya can't miss it." And then the lobster disappeared off into the crowd.

"We're looking for Blowhole, not the computer!" Hans hissed.

"It's the modern era, Hans, no criminal of Blowhole's caliber is caught dead more than fifteen feet from his computer – Skipper said they've got something against smartphones." Hans shrugged and nodded, following the lobsters directions till they were approaching the door that said 'scheming room' in sea blue stylized lettering.

"This way!" Hans hissed and led them through a more obscure side door that brought them onto an empty balcony above the scheming room, a cavernous space filled with all kinds of computers and swarming with red ones. A gigantic monitor took up most of the wall at one in front of which stood a man and a woman, one of which Kowalski instantly recognised and Hans had to all but knock him out to stop him yelling "Doris!"

"… Please, you can't!" Doris protested, her voice pained. She looked older than when Kowalski had last seen her, not in that three years had passed, but in her whole demeanour. She looked worn down. Well, three years of captivity by an internationally wanted criminal would do that.

"It's all you've left me to do!" the man replied exasperatedly in a high pitched, unusual voice, almost like a dolphin cackling. Kowalski assumed him to be Dr Blowhole, "And you've got no choice in the matter, I've made up my mind. Just be thankful you're still alive, and if you cooperate, will remain alive."

"Cooperate? I can't go along with…!"

"Doris, I guarantee you, if you attempt to get any message out to this 'Kowalski' character or anyone else you will be dead within three weeks, a victim of careless driving in a mountainous area or something similar, an accident just like in Antarctica, am I understood?" Doris nodded quietly, "Now Skipper's on his way, I'm locking down the base, go find somewhere out of sight." Kowalski had been about to charge in there the moment he heard any kind of threat to Doris' safety, but once again Hans held him back and Kowalski was given enough pause for his logical side to kick in: if Blowhole was locking down the base they'd be trapped inside. It would be all very well finding Doris but they wouldn't be able to get out, "Start searching the base, red ones. Last time he got lucky and found a paperclip that got him out of the last trap. That _will not_ happen again." From bad to worse: trapped, and now about to be found, "Start here."


	4. Chapter 4

Skipper had resumed picking and unpicking his handcuffs for amusement even after Private had reminded him repeatedly that unnecessary risks like that could get them _actually_ caught. He was beginning to wonder how long it took to change a tire, almost resorting to calculations like Kowalski. He was amazed one had even gone flat, but he supposed it was bound to happen to someone some time.

"Are you done _yet_?" Parker demanded. The red one looked up from the rear tire.

"Almost." He replied. Parker, bored, decided to resume taunting Skipper.

"The doc's got plans, you know, especially for you." He commented, "All of your little ice climbing group. Not to mention the world."

"He wouldn't be Dr Blowhole if he didn't." Skipper replied, his calm resumed.

"Y'know, I've been thinking about what he was going to do to them. At first I figured he'd just send me, but that would be too quick. Much too quick. No, he's been working on this formula, chrome claw, and he needs test subjects. Now, I've seen it done before, the doc mixes up the formula and straps the subject down. Then he takes out this gigantic needle and stabs it right into their heart," Skipper was looking noticeably uncomfortable, maybe even frightened, "and then they start to change growing into hideous, deformed creatures – such a shame for someone as beautiful as Doris – and then he refills the needle and he stabs again and again…!"

Out of the blue Skipper completely lost it, though thankfully he was at one of those points where he had the handcuffs on, so didn't reveal they were pointless to him, and went after Parker. It was still amazing what he could do even without his hands free. In fact, it seemed almost to be a fair fight against Parker and his poisoned spike. More than that, Skipper was starting to win, or at least, Private didn't like Parker's odds of getting out of this without ending up in traction. Normally that would be a good thing seeing someone as distasteful as Parker get what was coming to him – not that Private condoned revenge nor revelled in the violence – but without Parker they weren't going to make it to Blowhole's hideout. Well, he couldn't exactly yell all that out to Skipper.

Private looked desperately to Rico, but he seemed to be enjoying the fight too much to be much assistance.

"Um, Skippah?" He called.

"Not now Private!"

"Didn't you say you wanted to go through the whole capture/defeat/enemy-escapes cycle in time to make that reservation with Carlotta?"

"Private, what in the herring are you talking about?"

"You know, um, the one at the ice-cliff-wall-thingy club?" Now that was just insensitive but hopefully, that had gotten the message across.

"After I've finished feeding this idiot his extremities!" But Private recognized the distinctive reluctance that came with Skipper throwing a fight – again. Soon enough, Skipper was on his back again pretending bruised ribs were broken and hating it. Private winced imagining what kinds of horrible things he was fantasizing about doing to whoever gave him the opportunity to take out his annoyance on.

"You're losing your touch, Skipper." Parker gloated, but Parker was thinking: Skipper, not even an injured Skipper – and he'd fought the man in such a state once – lost a fight without at least providing the opponent with some serious bodily harm.

* * *

Kowalski pressed his fingers to his wrist feeling his pulse thumping wildly as he checked it against his watch for thirty seconds. Now, beat per thirty seconds times two… He grinned. He'd done this almost every minute, an obsession almost with analysing the kind of panic/excitement he hadn't felt in a long time. Blowhole didn't know he was closing in on them but as the search spread out from the main room he and Hans were pushed further and further towards the walls of the base, further and further from the exit. They'd tried to head towards the exit or at least get behind the direction of the ever expanding circle of red ones, but had failed miserably. That was before Hans caught sight of an air vent.

"I think we can fit through there." Hans whispered. Kowalski did a quick check, and, yes they could.

"But that leads back to the scheming room?"

"Better than being caught between a lobster and a concrete wall." Sound logic. Quietly they scrambled into the grate before the lobster saw them. Every movement in the tube of sheet metal seemed to echo deafeningly and Kowalski could hardly believe, though the calculations told him otherwise, that the whole underground lair couldn't hear them. When they came out, they were back where they'd originally stood on the balcony. The scheming room was empty and on the far wall was a door marked "main exit". Kowalski could hardly believe their luck. They raced down the stairs into the room emptied by the order for all hands to search for paperclips, silver foil wrapped 'nilla creams and other possible objects of escape and could feel victorious a cool draft of non-filtered air as they raced up the steps of the exit. Reaching the top Kowalski took in a deep breath, feeling his frontal lobe rejuvenated by clean country air. In this state, freed from other mental stresses he'd be able to use their reconnaissance of the lair to deduce Doris' location and then rescue her.

"…Yes, yes, red one, the escape route is in perfect order…" Kowalski's blood turned to ice and he went to bolt as a section of wall next to the exit slid open revealing Blowhole. The single eye that calmly acknowledged him quelled any attempt to run, and Blowhole was also undoubtable armed. Kowalski heard a soft whirr as that glowing red light that replaced his other eye scanned his form, "Kowalski, isn't it?" He spoke after a pause as if having received the data from the eye's analysis, "Hans?"

The other thing that had stopped Kowalski from running was Doris. He was as close to her as he'd gotten in years, barely three feet away. She looked more pained from up close, her pale, thin fingers gripping Blowhole's arm with terror.

"Please don't Francis, please!" She begged. Blowhole brushed her off, "Don't hurt him[ss1] !"

"Wait, you're Francis?" Kowalski questioned against his better judgement, "Dr Blowhole - so your doctoral thesis was accepted, congratulations." Blowhole seemed to grimace at that.

"The charge of plagiarism was not dropped; I obtained the degree by other means." He replied quietly and it occurred to both Hans and Kowalski what a bad idea it had been to bring that up.

"Kowalski was behind you the whole time, Francis, even helped me write to the university…"

"I know, Doris, I promise I won't hurt him, yet." Blowhole cut her off, "Red ones, lock them up somewhere, perhaps the spare storage bay, until I've dealt with Skipper, I'll review their case then."

"Thanks, Francis!"

"Go back to your room now Doris," Doris seemed reluctant to obey, "I assure you, Kowalski will be fine." She gave a cautious glance to Kowalski and Hans, and her shaking hands detached themselves from Blowhole's arm. She walked at a brisk pace, looking back several times, and disappeared into the escape route.

"You've seriously been holding your own sister captive?" Kowalski questioned with more than a portion of venom to his voice. Blowhole gave a shrug and motioned for them to get moving back into the lair.

"No," He replied nonchalantly, "I've merely been waiting till…" Suddenly Blowhole went for his gun, a lethal glint to his eyes.

Kowalski and Skipper had had some free time on that long boat from New Zealand to Antarctica and "Out of sheer morbid curiosity, since I know how badly you're going to fail" Skipper had taught him to shoot. Not only had he taught him to take the very top off an iceberg, but Skipper had impressed upon him how to shoot in a situation where he'd need it. In ninety nine percent of all activities Kowalski was a chronic procrastinator, however, that once per cent where he wasn't was in shooting and punching. Skipper had knocked the procrastination out of him with a night in the ship's pitch black cargo bay filled with half a dozen crew members drafted to attack Kowalski out of the darkness until he learned to react and not analyse.

Kowalski hadn't known until then just how good a teacher he'd gotten, or, how good he was. Skipper had always berated him that that unless his attacker acted in slow motion Kowalski would be sleeping with the fishes before he fired a shot. But Kowalski heard the gun Hans had given him fire, the steel kick backwards in his hand even as Blowhole's hand was half way out of his holster. The arch villain looked at Kowalski with blank surprise, seemingly amazed he'd been shot. His hand drifted towards the wound in his chest but dropped limp before it could make it there. Blowhole tried to take a step forward, his arm reaching out past Kowalski, his mouth opened to say something. He stumbled, and fell and like that was gone. Kowalski could see the shadow of a woman drifting out of sight far away in the darkness. Doris was gone again.

* * *

"Oh come on Parker," Skipper drawled, "He won't fetch more than two million. He's too young, too few people to miss him, not enough 'fate of the world rests on his shoulder's' work to accomplish. Definitely less valuable than me."

"Wrong Skipper, it's quality, not quantity, Nigel's is his uncle, remember? He'd pay up, more than Rockgut would. You can't underestimate family ties." The red one was pulling the car to a stop. Now that the fist fight was over Parker and Skipper weren't getting on too badly, keeping themselves amused with an amicable, if more than a little disturbing, debate over who would fetch a higher ransom. Rico had thrown in a bid that the two of them would come out to about the same when you considered the exchange rates, but apparently an accurate answer was no fun to Skipper and Parker and they'd continued on their respective sides. And the whole thing was pointless, anyway, as had been agreed on from the start as Blowhole apparently intended to ransom neither one of them wanting Skipper and Private out of the picture for personal and political reasons.

Private wasn't entirely sure what to expect to see or hear in an international criminal's hideout – though so far it just looked like an underground parking lot – so when the sound of a car backfiring or a gunshot or something rang out Private wasn't sure if it was anything out of the ordinary, but Skipper and Parker apparently both agreed this was a sound that was not supposed to be heard. Fortunately it left Parker distracted enough that Skipper had him knocked out before he knew what had hit him. Skipper grabbed something from Parker's pocket just before Rico covered Private's eyes following which Private heard a another shot fired. When he could see again he noticed the red one on the ground. He went to check if he was alright but Skipper and Rico were already moving in the direction the first shot had been heard from.

Suddenly Skipper stopped about half way down the hall grabbing what looked like a phone mounted on the wall.

"Code red, the pen-gu-in has escaped!" Skipper spoke into the phone that was actually hooked up to the intercom and echoed through the entire underground complex, "The pen-gu-ins are getting away through the front gate, catch them!" Skipper set down the phone and started moving again," Now let's see what kind of trouble those two have gotten themselves into." He muttered, but Private could see he was really very worried.

* * *

Skipper had taught Kowalski how to shoot, when to shoot and to shoot fast and deadly, but he hadn't taught Kowalski how to see the life slowly start to disappear from a fellow human being, albeit one evil through and through. Skipper hadn't even thought to teach him that, or perhaps it was something that just couldn't be taught. Perhaps after people like Skipper and Blowhole had seen enough bodies they'd learned to selectively turn off that part of their humanity. Even when Doris had seemingly plunged to her death Skipper had been far more collected than the rest of them, well, save Rico.

"You idiot!" A familiar voice behind him snapped and Kowalski automatically categorized the voice as Skipper's and left it at that. He heard the sound of three pairs of feet approaching from behind him and saw Skipper's form in the midnight blue light crouch and check the criminal's pulse. He motioned something to Rico and the human bottomless pit of anything necessary started applying some sort of a field dressing to the wound, "I could have made him talk! You don't think he was just holding Doris for the fun of it!"

"I'm quite certain you could have made him talk but I'm not sure I'd want you to." Kowalski countered coldly. He had enough on his mind with that motionless body lying on the ground before him, never mind trying to conjure the image of what Skipper meant by making someone talk.

"Yeah, and putting him in a coma at best is so much better." Skipper countered sarcastically. Well, at least Kowalski didn't have a _dead_ body on his conscience, "Where's Doris?"

"I don't know." Kowalski replied dully, "She's gone again." Skipper's fist seemed to knock a chunk out of the brittle wooden building Blowhole's lair was built under.

"Well that's just wonderful." Skipper growled. Then he turned to Hans, "You really are a piece of work, aren't you?"

"What?" Hans questioned.

"You knew we'd be searching your room around then so you gave Blowhole that number to chase."

"I gave him the first number that came to mind, I believe Kowalski could give you some psychological explanation of that number being the most recent one in my memory or something."

"Don't you think it's your theory's a little farfetched?" Private questioned.

"I'm watching you, Hans!" Skipper snapped and stormed back into the base, ostensibly to commandeer a car.

"Skippah does this sometimes." Private spoke quietly as Rico put in a call to Joey or someone to pick up Blowhole, "sometimes he's right and it's rather useful," Private's voice dropped to almost inaudibility, "Mostly he's wrong. Don't take offence."


	5. Chapter 5

Kowalski had known it was irrational. Doris was gone, they'd never catch her in the dark, and with any number of cars she could have taken or hitchhiked to or train stations in nearby towns with, she could be on her way out of the country already. Still, he'd searched and searched, and Skipper had humoured him and searched too, though Hans and Rico made it quite clear it was pointless and they were better off getting a good night's sleep then trying to pick up her trail in the morning. Right now all they were doing was floundering about in the dark.

Eventually, and eventually meant three hours later, Kowalski agreed that they weren't going to find her. Now the adrenaline was gone and the hunt was growing old Kowalski realized he was tired. Sheer exhaustion hit him like the self-loathing he'd felt the whole time for having lost her – and for having possibly killed a man, though Hans now said that wasn't that big a deal – and now all he wanted to do was head home.

But of course it couldn't be that easy, could it. No, to simply collect their bags they had to scale the side of the hotel and leaver the window open since vengeful red ones and desk clerks on the lookout for more wanted criminals were watching the lobby intently. Despite this one of the red ones had still spotted them and it took an extra half hour and two gun-flamethrower-rocket launcher fights to lose them. After that, finding a room in Paris during tourist season with Hans who seemed determined to earn the title of ultimate scrooge was another matter.

The irony of all that was after Kowalski had finally been able to settle down to counting jigglei, he couldn't sleep. It was a warm night, stickily warm, though with a gentle breeze that carried in the sounds of Skipper yelling at Julian to turn the music down. But Kowalski had grown up in New York and had often slept through police chases and road works without even realizing it. In fact, Skipper and Julian were, in their own way, kind of amusing, especially since whatever odd past relationship was held between the two meant Skipper didn't just settle the dispute like he would with most other people by immediately putting them in the emergency room. Kowalski assumed that it was because Skipper still expected Hans to try to spirit him away in the middle of the night and make for Gurfurjicklestan or something and so would need a source on the inside. Though Hans hadn't realized it, the most likely way for Skipper to have tracked them down was by bribing Julian.

"…You, are a peasant who walks around announcing that you are de flightless birdy..."

"Ringtail, that's classified!" Well, shouting that out certainly prevented it from being mistaken for the semi-senseless ramblings of Julian.

"…And I am de king, and de king has de duty to his subjects to be doing de boogie all night…"

"You aren't a king, Ringtail! And would you just make it a silent disco…?"

"Of course I am de king, and there is no shaking of de booty if not everyone knows about it!"

"Then why do you work?"

"I am not working!"

"So you just flew your 'kingdom' over here because…"

"…I am having de hankering for de city of love. In your flightless face!"

"Classified!"

Slowly, to the melody of irrational debate on the topic of what constituted a kingdom punctuated by references to 'penguins' followed by shouts of 'classified!' or other synonyms, Kowalski started to drift off. He was already half way in dream land when Private started an entirely new simultaneous fight after some very bad timing on trying to reconcile Skipper and Hans. The fight went on but 'penguins' must have gotten into his head since now he was standing in what looked like the penguin enclosure at the Central Park Zoo. Skipper, Rico, Private and himself were all penguins and Hans was a bird with a colourful beak – a puffin. Julian, Maurice and Mort were all lemurs, Julian a ring tailed lemur in a funny wood and grass crown.

They were still fighting over the music. Skipper was trying to snatch the batteries from a giant boom box that looked far too heavy for Julian to be scampering nimbly about with as he narrowly avoided Skipper's attacks.

"Rico!" Skipper yelled and Rico, a tallish penguin with his distinctive scar and crazed eyes seemingly regurgitated a net. That was certainly a sight Kowalski wanted to forget, though, like in most dreams the fact that he was now a flightless bird and that Rico could apparently throw up toilet seats wasn't the slightest bit strange. Skipper grabbed the net and threw it at Julian but Julian just dodged and the net fell into the water around the concrete floe.

"Please, Francis, please don't heart him!" Doris' voice begged and Kowalski spun around to the direction of the voice. None of the others seemed to have heard it, "There are other ways to submit a thesis!"

"Doris!" Kowalski yelled but Skipper was too caught up trying to catch Julian to notice. He ran after the sound that the voice had come from till he came to a dolphin stood on some kind of baby blue Segway in front of the main gates that led out into the park. Somehow he knew she was Doris.

Doris' eyes lit up when she saw him and he felt as happy as he'd felt the happiest day of his life when he'd gotten the nerve to ask Doris if she'd spend the rest of her life with him and she'd replied "I do like you like you, Kowalski so… Absolutely!"

"Come on, Kowalski, let's look at the ducks." She called as she started driving and Kowalski had to run to keep up with her. Oddly enough for New York, the park and the streets were completely empty, though it was midday and normally the park would be filled with children, tourists, lunching office workers and joggers. The grass was cleaner, too. The pond was a clear alpine sky blue as they reached it instead of murky green, though there were no ducks. He was glad there were no ducks, he was happy with it being just him and her.

Then something in the atmosphere changed. It was colder, the sky was now a cold blue not a warm one as was the pond. The grass seemed colourless and the sky was now over cast with that lead grey that usually came before a snow storm. The sun no longer glowed yellow but now looked half eclipsed by a big blue ball of energy, like a big blue marble.

"I'm cold, Kowalski." Doris whispered quietly and suddenly he was afraid too. There was a menace to the air, oddly enough almost deja vu, "Let's go back to the HQ." She started to drive back towards the iron gates of the zoo when something went wrong with the Segway and she was thrown backwards into the pond. Then something odd happened, even as she tried to drag herself out the pond started freezing around the edges. Kowalski grabbed her flipper, but he was too small! Too weak! She was slipping into the freezing pond and the ice seemed to almost be pulling her down. Her arm slipped through his tiny flippers until he was barely holding onto the tip of her flipper right at the water's edge and then that slipped away too.

"I guess I've already lost you to her, haven't I?" She whispered before she went under. [ss1]

Kowalski tried to throw himself after her; he didn't care if he froze too but he wasn't going to lose her again. It was turning into that same nightmare: Doris frozen under Antarctic ice. The ice was thinner than the usual dream, he knew he could break through except his tiny flippers didn't even make a dent. She seemed to be somehow still alive under there though she wasn't moving, if he could only just grab that flipper under an inch of ice he could save her.

Then suddenly the ice seemed to come alive, grabbing him around the throat like ice cold hands. He couldn't breathe and Doris was getting further and further away. He fought against the hands as his eyes shot open and it wasn't a dream, he could see black gloved hands in the darkness strangling him. He tried to cry out but no air meant no sound. Already he could feel himself weakening, his vision was going black and his head throbbed and numbed at the same time like he was being frozen too.

Kowalski would later claim this had been a stroke of genius on his part but it was more likely luck that his hand swiped over the screen of his phone which he'd fallen asleep in the process of setting the alarm on. The phone counted 30, 29, 28… and seemed to take forever to hit one but it finally did blasting out the obnoxious pattern of notes that acted as a safeguard against sleeping in.

"That's probably Archie back with the results." Kowalski heard skipper speak on the other side of the wall.

"It seems to be coming from Kowalski's room, I guess you left your phone there, but I don't think you should bother him…"

"Nonsense, Private. That call could mean…" Kowalski's mind started slipping into unconsciousness until suddenly he felt the pressure release from his neck.

"Kowalski!" Hans exclaimed and Kowalski heard the sound of a door opening and shutting.

"Where'd he go!" Skipper demanded though immediately rushed towards the open window climbing down like a monkey and disappearing off into the darkness.

"Are you alright?" Private asked helping him sit up.

"Yeah." Kowalski rasped rubbing his throat, "Yeah… I wouldn't try that again, though." Private grinned.

"You're going to be alright…"

"Damn eel." Skipper grumbled from down below the window, "Gone without a trace."

"Eh, look a' this!" Rico held up a pair of generic black gloves. They would be all they'd of Kowalski's attacker.

* * *

That familiar electronic pattern of notes played again and for the third time that morning Skipper made a compulsive dive for the direction of the sound, which this time happened to be private's suitcase.

"Sorry Skippah," Private blushed taking out the ringing phone, "It's me." Skipper muttered something about the world being a better place if fewer people had the same ring tone as him, "Oh hello!"

"One 'f 'is lun'corn buddies." Rico scoffed.

"… No, I'm fine, K'walski had a bit of a shock but Rico says he's fine. No, it wasn't a robbery, you heard wrong, someone tried to kill him… Yes, it is rather rummy to say the least. The ten am…? To St. Pancras station? Oh absolutely… Thanks!" Private hung up with a giddily excited grin, "That was Uncle Nigel and he says someone he knows said someone fitting Doris' description booked a seat on the ten am Eurostar to London St. Pancras…" But on hearing 'ten am' and 'St. Pancras' Hans had already filled in the gaps whipped his phone out and started typing. He stopped, smirking.

"Sorry Skippar." He held up the phone, "There were only two seats left and I've just booked those for me and Kowalski. Don't worry," Hans' victorious expression grew as Skipper scowled, "Julian will fly you across and hopefully you'll land soon enough that you'll be the first person we tell how we caught her too."


	6. Chapter 6

"Why, exactly, are you still here?" Hans asked exasperatedly looking back over his shoulder at skipper, "The others left for the airport." Skipper shrugged.

"Annoying you is more fun than sitting around while Maurice fixes engine problems." Skipper replied offhandedly as they disembarked from the escalator that took them out of the metro station and into Gare du Nord proper.

"You know you can only go as far as the gate without a ticket." Kowalski pointed out compulsively, though his tone seemed glad to have Skipper along, "Your route is 304% less efficient than Private and Rico's." Skipper didn't seem to mind in the least, "Just mentioning it in the interests of improving travel…"

"Kowalski, you're missing the whole point of going somewhere else." Kowalski frowned as if the statement did not compute, "The most _efficient_ thing I could have done would have been to stay home..."

"And I still don't understand why you didn't." Hans muttered. Skipper just ignored him.

"Hans," Kowalski glanced at his watch then looked like he wanted to smash it to pieces, "We've missed the train because of those delays..!"

"What do you mean, missed the train?" Hans countered, "We've got an hour."

"Security, customs and immigration." Skipper replied, "And that." He pointed up to the gigantic line up spiralling it's way along the balcony that was the entrance to the Eurostar." Hans cursed the metro system, his watch and a whole bunch of other things whilst Skipper seemed to be examining his list of contacts thoughtfully, "I think I can get you two a shortcut." He spoke, "One second," Skipper selected one of the contacts labelled 'Archie (under investigation)'. At first the 'under investigation' part made Kowalski nervous before he noted that half of the names he could see had 'under investigation' or 'possible spy' in brackets next to the name.

"I'm watching you, Skipper, and listening." Hans warned as the phone began to ring.

"Hi, Archie," Skipper greeted enthusiastically, "Sorry – bonjour, right?… Yeah, my French is still terrible I'm guessing… Yes, of course I'm asking a favour, why else do people call you. I've got a friend with me – not one of us – I was wondering if the 'special gate' might be available, I've got a couple of dossiers I can't trust security to handle." Skipper said something else that Kowalski couldn't quite make out, mostly letters and numbers that got Hans suspicious.

"What are you saying?" Hans questioned sceptically.

"I'm telling him your classification, name, rank and clearance for the records," Skipper hissed back, "No, of course I know it's penguin personnel on penguin business only, I'm on a job, under cover, that's why it's not coming up, but ask Rockgut and he'll tell you I'm cleared… Thanks, me and my friend will be waiting in the usual spot." Skipper hung up, "Alright, Hans, I want you and Kowalski to walk right past the line and go to the far end of the gates, there should be a closed one and a guy who looks like one of the train staff standing nearby, he's Archie. He's going to see that you and your official Penguin, top secret papers get across the channel and possibly get you a seat upgrade. Decide amongst the two of you who gets to be me." Clearly, and not unpredictably, Hans nominated himself and barely taking the time to ask Skipper why he was helping them and get a sarcastic response Hans hurried off in the direction of the aforementioned gate.

"Won't he realize Hans isn't you?" Kowalski asked.

"He's never seen me and he'll assume I'm putting on an accent."

* * *

Skipper had referred to 'Penguins' in the call which Kowalski had always assumed was some kind of government agency, but seeing Archie he wasn't so sure if Skipper wasn't actually in organized crime or something. Archie was a suspicious looking – both himself suspicious looking and looking suspicious of everyone else - fellow who ushered them into a room off to the side the moment they identified themselves.

"We are on the 10:13 to London St. Pancras." Hans spoke. Archie burst out laughing

"Skipper, your Danish accent is worse than you're French" He laughed, pulling out a form. The letterhead wasn't that revealing since it only contained the word 'Penguin' in plain black small bold letters at the top left hand side of the page.

"Yes, I suppose I haven't been to Denmark in a while." Hans replied disguising his amusement.

"Anything to declare?"

"Didn't I tell you?"

"Gotta ask, regulations." Archie shrugged. Hans wasn't quite sure what Skipper had said in that code of his so tentatively replied he had Kowalski's field lab kit, the papers and nothing else. Kowalski noticed Archie had dropped his own accent pretence. Still, those shifty eyes and smirk that implied he knew something that Kowalski didn't wasn't exactly comforting. Kowalski was surprised someone with such a predilection towards the paranoid as Skipper trusted Archie, "Few seconds, guys, having a few problems with the computer."

"Just make sure we don't miss our train."

"Aw, don't worry, we'd hold the train up for you, like always. Just wanna make sure Rocky knows it's you and not somebody impersonating you, the usual squirrel paranoia routine." Archie continued to type rapidly for some time, clearly having some kind of major problem with the computer. Hans waited relatively patiently though Kowalski fidgeted with his clipboard. He still couldn't get Doris out of his mind. Doris was on this train, and he could finally find out what had her so terrified.

"I suppose you are wondering why I've been so insistent that Skipper doesn't come along." Hans spoke in a low voice out of the blue. Actually, Kowalski wasn't even thinking of that, but welcomed an answer and told Hans as much. Hans nodded and then studied him thoughtfully for an uncomfortable pause, "Kowalski, do you think Skipper could kill for love?" Kowalski frowned.

"I think he _could_, I get the impression he probably has for a lot of other things. Why?"

"Skipper loved Doris too before she accepted your proposal." Kowalski went to protest but Hans cut him off, "can you take that chance?"

Kowalski honestly wasn't sure what he was supposed to reply to that, and he didn't have to as the conversation was interrupted when a beefy man in a dark suit and three other sunglasses clad aids burst into the room.

"Ah, Skippar, you can change your appearance, you can change your voice, but you cannot escape from your crimes." The man grinned eyeing Hans like he was a particularly tasty sandwich he'd finally tracked down, "I hope you decide to make this unpleasant, I have more than a small score to settle with you."

"My name is not…" Hans began to protest but it was clear it wasn't going to work. Options flashed through Kowalski's mind at the speed of light. He cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," He hoped his impression of Private didn't as stupid as he thought it did, "But Skippah is currently engaged on official penguin business – guarding me."

"And who might you be?" Replied the Dane sceptically.

"You might know me as 'Private'," Kowalski replied, and a dramatic change went over the newcomers' demeanours, "I'm engaged on official business and if you don't believe me you can call my Uncle Nigel and you'll get a sound speaking too."

"Nigel or not…" The Dane growled practically snarling at Hans. Then one of his aides whispered something to him and the leader looked like he was going to bite the aid's head off, "Very well, Private, go ahead to catch your train. We only wish to speak to Skipper for a little bit, he will be with you presently." Kowalski tried to protest the point arguing that someone might attempt to kill him between the platform and the train, but all that got him was one of the aids as an escort. Hans, under 'Private's' protection was grudgingly released five minutes later.

* * *

Kowalski took his seat removing a journal and flicking to the chemical stained sticky note that denoted a paper of particular interest settled down to read. He'd decided reading was the most practical activity, being the activity most likely to take his mind off of Doris and Skipper and Hans. After all, searching for Doris before the train left the station was pointless as, if she spotted him, she could simply get off the train while that would be significantly more difficult once the train was in motion. The way she was acting, she might try it, though, and that would cause considerable injury that he'd never be able to forgive himself for. Kowalski went with the higher probability.

Kowalski kept his eyes on the article as Hans sat down beside him, trying to keep his mind on the journal, but it wasn't working.

"Listen, Hans, about what you were saying about Skipper…"

"What was he saying about me?" Kowalski's eyes shot up from the journal to see Skipper settling comfortably into what was supposed to be Hans' seat

"Where's Hans?"

"On the plane with Private and Rico," Skipper replied, "Hans didn't make the train, and it was a shame to let the ticket go to waste." Kowalski shook his head.

"You two are hopeless." He slipped the journal into the pocket of the seat in front of him. He probably wasn't going to get to read it, "So you sicced the Danish security on Hans?"

"Well, I figured Archie might try to sell 'me' out, but aside from that..." Skipper replied glibly, trying to hide a triumphant grin behind nonchalance, "Well, I did pick his pocket, swapped my 'ticket to par-tay' with his ticket. Good thing, too, thanks to your bright idea the Danes let him go in time to catch the train, but they wouldn't let him on with a bit of paper with a picture of Julian on it." Kowalski tried not to study Skipper too much, tried not to observe his every move for clues as to his train of thought but being a creature of analysis he just couldn't do it. He'd hoped it wasn't showing, but apparently it was.

"What's wrong? You're looking at me funny." Skipper asked as he felt the train slide into motion with a low hum. Kowalski stood up intending to start the search for doris, "Not a good idea, I'd go after her once we've gone into the tunnel, otherwise she might skip out at Lille or Calais." Skipper countered, "Now what was Hans saying about me."

"Oh." Kowalski laughed uncomfortably, "It was silly, something he made up to justify the way he's acting."

"It's bothering you."

"Not anymore." Kowalski let it end at that but Skipper wasn't taking silence for an answer, sitting there calmly, unnervingly and waiting for Kowalski to speak. It was unnerving because Skipper just didn't do patience, but that was probably what Skipper was playing on. Kowalski took the journal out again, trying to keep his attention on that but as the passenger announcements came on and interrupted his reading. All the while Skipper was, well not exactly glaring at him, but making him feel more than a little uneasy.

"What did Hans say about me that's got you so hung up?" Skipper asked, though with a slightly harder and less jovial tone to his voice. Kowalski didn't mean to, but he shivered thinking back to Blowhole and how Skipper had spoken so casually of forcing answers out of Blowhole by extreme violence. Was Hans right? Was the possibility that Skipper might have had more than a little to do with Doris' attempted murder than he pretended, a great enough probability that it could be taken into account.

It was exactly now that Kowalski began to curse the fact he had a semi-photographic memory as events that fit exactly into what Hans had said flooded back to him. Skipper and Doris had acted so odd in Antarctica – Kowalski had originally put it down to the fact that Skipper was more than a little male chauvinist and Doris was a confirmed feminist – but the two of them had gone at each other non-stop. He remembered how Skipper had cryptically mentioned how "I once knew a girl…" then clammed up when Kowalski asked what had happened to her with that odd expression, like the one he got when he talked about Manfredi and Johnson, almost like he was mourning her - or feeling guilty about dropping her off an ice shelf. Skipper had been so eager to help: was he merely attempting to assist a friend, or was he trying to make sure Doris wouldn't talk? Doris' death had been proclaimed a freak accident, and Kowalski got the impression Skipper had some experience with 'accidents'.

"What did you think of Doris?" Kowalski asked bluntly.

"You know me and her didn't get on too well, I'm not going to pretend we did." Skipper replied, "What was it Hans said?"

"It's ridiculous," Kowalski sighed, "He thinks you might have loved Doris and…" Kowalski trailed off when he saw Skipper was actually not laughing at him. Skipper was doing well to hide what he was thinking, trying to keep guilt out of it, but Kowalski could see he'd pieced together the rest.

"Hans thinks I tried to kill her because I couldn't bear to see her pick you over me." Skipper finished for him. Kowalski stifled a wince, "And he made enough of an impression on you that you were worried about it?"

"I didn't believe him for a second. Hans is just jealous or angry about whatever fight you had or something." Kowalski immediately countered, but Skipper seemed to know Kowalski had filed it as more than an unlikely theory. Kowalski wished he'd get angry, or snap at him like he would to Private but he didn't. He just looked at Kowalski with that betrayed expression. Kowalski looked away.

"I really seem like the kind of guy who would do that?" Kowalski twisted the journal backwards and then forwards again, "That I tried to kill you last night because I was jealous of Doris, or that it's been you I've liked the whole time and tried to get rid of anyone too close to you?" Kowalski nipped a cautious glance back at Skipper then looked away again.

"Did you…?" Kowalski finally asked when the silence became unbearable and the question too heavy on his mind to ignore.

"I don't think I can answer that." Skipper replied coldly, "After all, if I did do it, wouldn't I say I didn't?" The conversation lapsed again, Skipper looking unseeingly down the aisle and Kowalski twisting his journal into knots.

"Did you…?" Kowalski began to ask.

"Well I can say, no, but would you…?"

"No, not that… Doris, did you love her?"

Skipper sighed, relaxing back into his seat, "Yes, I did. I saw her first, technically, I met her in New Zealand about a week before the boat left." Slowly Kowalski mustered the courage to look at Skipper again, but Skipper wasn't looking at him, "I really thought I was in love, then you came along, we both fought fair over her, but when she picked you over me I couldn't let it go. I didn't blame you, you didn't know she was taken since she didn't tell you. I guess I really meant that little to her.

"After that it was just you two together day after day, not to say I didn't put up a fight I'm not proud of – those were the arguments you heard bits and pieces of. Finally, you asked her if she'd marry you and she accepted. I guess I just became irrational then, fought her on every point, just acted spitefully. She made it clear that I'd definitely lost her after that. Was that what you wanted to know?"

"Yes." Kowalski replied quietly, "I could have taken just a yes or no answer…"

"Well why didn't you say so before I started on my life's story that you're probably thinking sounds a lot like a confession…?!"

"Mesdames et messieurs, nous approchons maintenant de la gare de Lille Europe, ladies and gentlemen, we are now approaching…"


	7. Chapter 7

"Great science, I thought it would never leave Calais!" Kowalski grinned as the train pulled out of the town. Only minutes later the tunnel actually became visible, a great grey rectangular square of concrete. And then suddenly the windows went black and they were in the tunnel. Kowalski set down the journal he was reading and looked at Skipper, who was still sitting there typing up some mission report or another. Skipper just nodded and closed off the file but didn't say anything. Now _that_ had Kowalski worried. Private would go silent and sulk but Skipper and Hans, especially Skipper, never stopped talking. If they were mad at you, you heard about it and they didn't pull punches.

Kowalski waited for the traditional "Kowalski, options" but it didn't come.

"Uh, Skipper, um…" Kowalski started awkwardly, "I've got some options…?" he fumbled with his clipboard bringing up the notes he'd spent the half of the train ride when he wasn't reading or accusing Skipper of murder working on.

"Well go on, Kowalski," Skipper replied sarcastically when Kowalski didn't continue, "Unless of course you wanna stand there holding your clipboard 'till we get to London."

"Uh, yes sir!" Kowalski stuttered out. Skipper frowned at him. _Sir?_

"I'm that scary?"

"You wanted options, right?" Kowalski blushed as he stepped into the aisle and started in the direction the train was moving. Skipper followed, "I've calculated we'll be 32% more efficient if we split up." Skipper continued after him, "That would mean you'd need to go… uh, that way." He pointed in the opposite direction he was going, "Unless, you want to go this way then I can go that way… Something wrong?"

"I'm beginning to wonder if Doris is better off with me," Skipper spoke, "If you think putting us on opposite sides of a train is a great way to heal the recent rift between us."

"I didn't think of that," Kowalski muttered, "Actually, I'd thought it was extending the olive branch, a show of trust." Or an opportunity for redemption. Or an opportunity to allow Doris' body to be found on the tracks by the next train. Kowalski stopped that train of thought right there. Hans was just jealous. Sure, Skipper had means, motive and opportunity but… This hunt was really getting to him.

"Alright, Kowalski, we'll split up." Skipper replied, "What do we do if we find her? There's no reception down here." Kowalski grinned.

"Well, there's a little something I've been tinkering with…" Skipper looked noticeably nonplussed, "…or we can just not use…"

"Something that's gonna break when I need it most is better than nothing at all."

* * *

"The idea is to create long lasting friendly relations," Private repeated for what seemed like the millionth time, "Like my Uncle Nigel says, "there's no bank like the bank of trust and friendship" in delicate international relations."

"That is stupidy!" Julian laughed with a dismissive wave of his hand, "You are saying that you should be giving de gifts to your worst enemy like de fishity smelling penguins…"

"Well, Skipper gives you gifts, doesn't he?" Private replied, "And then you give him gifts back."

"That's called bribes." Maurice countered.

""Patronage to de arts"." Julian corrected and with a thoughtful look continued, "Ah, so you are still hating the person while you are buying stuff from them and calling them gifts?" Julian grinned, "Now I am getting it!"

"Oooh, that is so complicated!" Mort added with amazement.

"Actually, your majesty, I don't think that's what he means." Maurice countered, "I think he means you give them gifts because then in the future they'll help you 'cause they have to since they owe you one."

"That's exactly… no, you don't give them gifts because you want something back from them at a later date," Private corrected exasperatedly, "I mean, it would be nice of them, but you don't keep score…"

"I think it is stupidy." Julian sighed, "Stupidy like de dancy prancy lunicorns you are always talking about…"

"The lunicorns aren't…!"

"la la la la la la la la la…" Julian sang his fingers in his ears. Private tried several times to speak through the cacophony but eventually, with a downtrodden heart, realized it was no good and moped back out into the cabin.

"Ah, what'cha gonna do?" Rico shrugged when Private asked his assistance.

"I'm inclined to agree with him." Hans concurred, "I think that was a battle destined to lose from the start."

"I don't understand why people don't get it." Private sighed taking a seat next to Hans.

"You're too good for this world, Private." Hans replied, "All the rest of us have gotten too greedy."

"I don't think you're greedy." Private answered quietly, "You or K'walski or Skippah or Rico unless there's a new Miss Perky out. It seems to me like most of the rest of the world wouldn't stop at anything chasing a dollar symbol."

"I'm greedy in my own way." Hans replied casting a glance out the window then back to Private, "There are certain things I like, a certain routine, things I have become accustomed too – they are few, but specific – and I don't think there is much I wouldn't do to keep those things."

"Well I have my principles too, I'm not saying fighting for them is wrong…"

"Then you are far more righteous than I am if that's what you hold dear."

"What would you fight for, then?" Private asked. Hans shrugged.

"My job, my partnership with Kowalski – same thing –, my open sandwiches." The conversation seemed to lapse after that, Hans staring out the window at the fluffy white floor of clouds below them. Suddenly he looked up, "Do you want to know why I keep trying to get rid of Skippar?"

"If you want to tell me?" Private replied politely.

"It's because I'm jealous of him in a way. I like the set up between me and Kowalski. It is really quite special. I have the ideas and he tells me which ones are too ridiculous and then makes the ones that aren't too ridiculous come true. I imagine a freeze ray with a coffee machine, and he builds it and it is a success. Skipper is by nature a maverick and compulsively destroys at the things I am accustomed to. I suppose it is my fault, I dated him." It was an odd confession to make, Private thought, but he did understand in a way. Hans, he'd known before it had been explicitly stated, was very strict about his core routine even if he was loose about everything else. He could respect that, actually, though he wasn't sure Kowalski liked being caught in the middle.

"Is that what you two were arguing about?" Private asked.

"No it wasn't."

* * *

"Carriage 3 is a negative, over." Skipper's voice crackled over the radio.

"Yeah, I've still got nothin'." Kowalski replied and set a mental note to himself to analyse Skipper's correct radio conduct and duplicate it. The steady crackle of open air only gave his bored mind more space to stew over the humiliation of having to ask Skipper what he meant by the occasional code word Skipper would use out of habit, "Hey, Skipper?"

"Yeah?"

"What were you and Hans arguing about?" Silence.

"I don't know," skipper finally replied, "Out of the blue Hans brought up the subject of commitment and certainty and all that molly coddle stuff – the big elephant in the room. You know, started talking about making things more permanent. I guess I panicked at the word marriage. I thought I'd made it clear to him…"

"Maybe you should have said you were still in love with Doris." Kowalski finished for him but his assumption turned out to be incorrect.

"Nah, I'm over Doris." Skipper replied so calmly and nonchalantly he didn't seem like he was lying or brushing it off.

"Oh." Kowalski uttered the monosyllable in surprise. Skipper apparently took it as doubt.

"I learned my lesson a couple of years ago when I was in Monaco… You don't have to be worried about me going after Doris now." Skipper answered awkwardly, "I lead an unusual life, it's dangerous and I'm away a lot. Half the year or more on average. And even if she wanted to come it would be above her clearance."

"So in other words you've decided you're doomed to loneliness?"

"No, I'm doomed to no commitments for the next twelve years before I go on half pay the rest of my life – since… not… chance… I'm taking a desk job…"

"Skipper, you're breaking up." Kowalski tapped at his 'little invention'. Were wisps of smoke supposed to be rising from the top? He probably should turn it off.

And that was when he saw her at the other end of the carriage. She had blue hair and brown eyes but that was hair dye and contact lenses. She was Doris, alright.

"I've found her!" Kowalski hissed over the radio doubling his pace. She was sitting there, studying something intently, "Car ten, I'm gonna have to turn this off now, the sparks are getting a little conspicuous…"

"Don't just walk up to her, she'll bolt!" Skipper cut in before Kowalski could hit the power button, "Just observe until I get there, Skipper out!" Even as Kowalski switched off the radio and ducked back through the automatic glass doors into the between carriage area Doris stood up, weather she'd seen him or whether it was something else Kowalski didn't know, and started for the next carriage. Kowalski stepped back into the carriage and followed her. He picked up the sheet of paper she'd been reading so intently as he passed her seat. It was a copy of the passenger list. His and Hans/Skipper's seat numbers were circled.

Doris seemed to know she was being followed. She'd glance behind her and Kowalski would duck out of sight just in time. But she knew someone was behind her. She'd clutch her bag tighter and double the pace, and double the amount of times she looked behind her. He hoped Skipper would hurry up and get there. Kowalski had no idea what to do and had that sinking feeling he got when he was reaching a deadline and knew he hadn't enough time to finish the project.

And that was when it hit him: what deadline? If anything it was Doris running out of track: the train only went so far in either direction and she was going to hit the end before he did. Kowalski made up his mind that the next space he came to that was short on potentially eavesdropping passengers he was going to step out of the shadows and ask Doris why she was running from him.

Doris paused in the nauseatingly twisting gap between two carriages. The next carriage was the last and she had nowhere else to run. Kowalski pressed the button and the door slid open with a soft hiss that had been getting to become familiar.

"Doris?" He spoke tentatively. Doris whirled around from where she'd been staring through to the next carriage and her eyes widened in fear, "Doris, you can stop running, you're safe!" Doris didn't say anything, searching the space for a way out. She hit the button behind her and entered the next carriage. Kowalski followed, "Doris, what are you…?!"

Suddenly her hand slammed into the emergency stop button. The train started to slow and a pre-recorded announcement announcing the stop played. She made a dash for the door grabbing the umbrella of one of the passengers and using it to leaver it open even as Kowalski traversed the carriage towards her. He was within arm's reach, but now she had the door open, hot choking air spewing into the carriage.

"Kowalski, please stop following me!" She pleaded.

"Doris, why do you keep running?" He protested, "You're safe now?!"

"I'm anything but safe." She countered over the noise of the slowing train, "If you care anything about my safety then stop following…" Kowalski made a reckless grab for her arm and suddenly she jumped.

The train was going fast despite the emergency stop but Kowalski's analytical mind still running in the background told him she'd survive it with a few bruises. He'd survive it too, and he was about to jump after her when he was pulled back by two conductors who might have been there the whole time, not that he'd heard them. The whole thing was a blur, the jist of it seemed to be they thought he'd been trying to commit suicide or escape with a stolen umbrella or something and were calling for a doctor. Kowalski struggled with them as the doors were closed and the train resumed its speed. He tried to tell them there was a girl in the tunnel who'd already jumped but the whole thing was such a confusion they didn't understand a word he said.

"Kowalski!" Skipper's familiar voice shouted through the crowd, "Inspector Smith, let me through!"

"She's gone again, Skipper." Kowalski sighed. Kowalski could see Skipper was about to order the train to stop, "We've already gone too far, skipper, she'll be gone again by the time we get there."


	8. Chapter 8

Hans stepped off the plane and had the bizarre urge to kiss the ground or dance for the sky spirits or whatever Julian was currently doing. Landing had become more than a little chaotic when Julian had chosen his favourite radio station over air traffic control. In Hans' opinion the method by which Julian kept his licence was up there with the nature of the universe. He didn't know how Skipper put up with it. No, seeing Rico grinning as he stepped onto the tarmac made him realize Skipper probably could put up with it because he was as crazy as Julian or at least close, in his own way.

"Well…" began Private, probably about to say something optimistic about Lunicorns but opted not to. His skin was sheet white and his hand was shaking.

"Come on everyone!" Mort giggled, skipping ahead of the group, "It is this way to customs and immigration!"

It was a bit of a jog to keep up with Mort but now on terra firma the ride was far smoother. Maurice carted their baggage out from the plane and they started on the necessary paperwork and formalities that came with landing in a foreign country.

"Would you step this way, sir?" a bland sounding voice behind them asked and Hans turned around to see a nondescript man in a dark suit and dark glasses standing behind them with two other carbon copies of himself. Hans frowned. He was going to get even with Skipper for siccing Danish security on him.

"I'm not Skippar…" he began to protest.

"We know that, sir, would you please step this way?" Hans didn't really have any choice.

* * *

Skipper pushed open the doors that led out into the main station and spewed out with their fellow passengers into the main concourse. A combination of artificial light and natural light streaming in from the glass ceiling with its light blue painted iron trusses illuminated a glass, steel and brick conversion of a Victorian station. The cheery bilingual intercom was only barely audible over the sound of the trains and the crowds.

"They've changed it since I was here." Kowalski commented remembering the scaffolding filled ruin that had greeted his first trip. In fact, he vaguely remembered it being closed. It was certainly a contrast to the upscale glass storefronts and the champagne bar above them. Skipper, however, seemed to have no interest in interior décor and memories. He was too busy looking for possible threats. Spies, not that Skipper had ever admitted to being one, were always nervous in the movies but skipper was downright paranoid.

Suddenly his eyes locked on to two nondescript men in dark suits moving towards them through the crowd.

"Dammit, why now?" Kowalski heard Skipper mutter and pick up his pace, trying to lose himself in the dissipating Eurostar passengers, pulling Kowalski along by his arm but they weren't fast enough, and another two men stepped out of the crowd directly in front of them.

"Would you step this way, sir?" the first man spoke. Kowalski frowned.

"Alright…" He began to comply but Skipper made it clear he was going to stay right where he was.

"Your friend has the right idea, Skipper." The other man, bland as the next one but a little on the older side, though not old, with white hair and sideburns spoke, "I'm not sure you want to talk out here."

"Not a chance, the moment I go anywhere with you it's over for me." Skipper replied, "I'm staying right here, and you can say your piece or get lost. I'm on vacation, anyway."

"Do you remember that case of grand theft auto, or 'commandeering' as you called it, from last time you were here…?" Skipper grimaced, "I thought you'd be reasonable. Prison sentences take so long." With a scowl Skipper set off after the white haired man. He didn't seem to have any plan to escape or anything as they walked out to the cab rank where the white haired man procured transport. He waved the first there cabs and then seemed to recognise the driver of the third.

"HQ." He told the man and then stepped into the cab. The original two who'd spooked Skipper in the crowd motioned that Skipper and Kowalski should get in too, and then closed the door after them.

"I'm on leave, Nigel!" Skipper protested when the cab door shut, "If you want to see Private, he'll be at Heathrow…"

"I already picked him up." The white haired man who apparently was named Nigel replied. He looked at Kowalski, who apparently looked as if the train had made a wrong left turn at the asteroid belt and dropped him off on mars, "I've been terribly rude, allow me to introduce myself, I'm Agent Nigel."

"Kowalski." Kowalski replied bluntly and that was all the interest Nigel took in him before turning back to Skipper.

"My informants tell me you're working on a case."

"It's personal." Skipper answered.

"Yes, the tragic Miss Blowhole. Shame you had to kill her protector." Kowalski winced, but the thought of reporting him to the police didn't seem to have crossed Agent Nigel's mind, "Oh, you didn't know he was guarding her? Well, naturally you wouldn't have believed him if he'd told you. He's in a coma, hopefully he'll wake up and say just who he was guarding her from but until then we're all in the dark."

"Look, Nigel, I'd love to help you out," Skipper sighed, glancing about the taxi as if it were a prison. His earlier statement that stepping out of the public eye would cease all hope of not being roped into an investigation was apparently coming true, "but whoever Blowhole was apparently protecting Doris from is still out there and after her. I wanna find her first."

"You've heard of the Red Squirrel, haven't you?" Nigel continued, ignoring Skipper, "He's been under the radar a while but he's poked his head up again. Multiple bank robbery, well, impending multiple bank robbery. I want you to listen to something."

"I don't wanna listen." But Nigel had his phone out and had already hit play beginning an excerpt of a message or another.

_"…As you can see, I am quite capable of defeating the security of any bank regardless of your little 'precautions'."_ A thick, Russian accented voice spoke_, "Now, eight major banks cleaned out, records burned, systems hacked and wiped would wreak havoc with the economy, something I'm not sure you can afford these days."_

_"What do you want?"_ Nigel's voice answered.

_"Ten million dollars and a full pardon."_

_"That's ridiculous."_

_"That is barely a fraction of the money I would otherwise take, trivial. A bargain on the cost of the pardon, even. You have a week from today to come up with the money."_

The call ended.

"As you can see, the situation's rather grim." Nigel concluded, "When I heard you and Rico were on this side of the Atlantic…"

"Alright, Nigel, I'll take it." Skipper spoke. Nigel looked somewhat stunned, "You were gonna talk me into it anyway or hold me on some trumped up charge. I don't have time for that, I've got a girl to find."

* * *

"We're all here?" Skipper spoke glancing around the room. They were all present: Skipper, Rico, Kowalski, Private Hans, Nigel, even Julian, Maurice and Mort, as well as a new guy Kowalski didn't recognise. He looked kind of confused actually, even more confused than Kowalski.

"I think so." Replied the confused looking man.

"We are." Kowalski concluded, "I assume."

"Well, now that we've got the headcount settled we can get started." Skipper cut in sarcastically before Private could add his estimate, "Nigel?"

"Transfer's complete." The Agent replied, "Enough to make Fred quite comfortable for a good three days. I've arranged things with the lottery and the tech boys, too, not much trouble with any of them. Tracers are all ready, do you want subcutaneous, or…"

"What's subcutaneous…?" Fred began to ask. Kowalski whispered something to him and he looked about ready to bolt.

"Let's just stitch something into his clothes." Skipper concluded, "Cheaper." Fred breathed a sigh of relief, "What about the driver's licence?"

"Well, the test'll be a bit of a difficulty but I've got a friend who works with this kind of thing." Private replied, "Don't you think it would just be easier to let Rico play chauffer?" Skipper looked at Rico and his more than a little crazed grin and shook his head.

"That would put us way over budget. Too much property damage and too many speeding tickets. Since that's settled, I think we're a go for Operation: ACORN." Skipper announced, "Oh, Hans, you've set it all up on your side, we need to give him some credibility?" Hans looked at Skipper blankly.

"I think I've missed something here." He replied, "I have a feeling you might have explained the plan while I was doing a coffee run."


	9. Chapter 9

The Red Squirrel's single eye looked up from the blue prints of the bank when something caught his interest on one of the ever running feeds of data that seemed to mush together into a droning cacophony until something caught his attention. It wasn't the police feed, or one of the many bugs he'd placed in the various banks he intended to rob, but the local media channel that caught his eye. In fact, even that ordinarily wouldn't have caught his attention save for the fact he was flat out, hands down broke. It was getting bad, his eye was snapping to attention like Buck Rockgut leading drill the moment someone dropped a 50p.

_"How does it feel to win the Jackpot and the Oak lotteries at the same time with winnings into the multi millions?"_ the reporter asked excitedly.

_"Good, I guess."_ Replied a bewildered looking man who seemed to be trying to find out what all the fuss was about_, "I guess."_ The Red Squirrel figured it was just the shock of getting all that cash dumped in his lap.

_"And what is the first thing you're going to do now you're a millionaire?"_ Humph. Some people got all the luck.

_"I dunno. I'll think of something. I guess." _Well the least he could do was know what to do with the stuff! Still, the mainstream media was probably overplaying the hype on the whole thing and the Squirrel switched to a more business minded channel that seemed to be running a bulletin on the matter despite the fact it often reported on far greater sums of cash being made on a daily basis.

_"So the deal didn't go through?" _a sombre looking interviewer inquired.

_"No it didn't." _Replied one of the two interviewees who had an unusual accent. The banner at the bottom of the screen introduced them as the famous explorers-turned-businessmen duo Hans and Kowalski. He must be Hans.

_"As I understand it, it was your side that turned the contract down? Certainly that must have been a considerable financial loss to the company."_

_"Fred Forgetnaught was a risk."_ The other man, Kowalski, answered. _"He's not joking, you know, when he says he doesn't know what to do with his money. We couldn't afford him getting himself scammed out of it and leaving us with a bankrupt partner."_

_"But isn't that an acceptable risk considering the possible reward?"_

_"Charles, my five year old cousin could probably get him to sign that money away. He put it all in one account with no security protocols."_

* * *

"And you be listening to me!" Julian snapped, "You can not be having Maurice if I am not to be coming along too!"

"Julian, do you want to be kidnapped?" Skipper sighed exasperatedly. He could see Julian summing up the possibility of going through a kidnapping turning out some kind of a reward similar to going to the dentist. Julian was heading rapidly towards the conclusion of 'how bad could it be?', "Let me rephrase that, do you want to be kidnapped by the Red Squirrel?"

"You can not be using Maurice as a driver for dis Fred without de Royal Me." Julian put his foot down firmly, "And Fred is not being allowed to drive – I still don't get that, I mean, he only spent half the time out of lane – so he is needing Maurice to drive him."

"And what, may I ask, will be your excuse for being around Mr Forgetnaught?" Nigel cut in.

"What do you think?" Skipper heard Fred's voice call from the back of the room, "I mean, what do millionaires buy? I think I'm going to settle for the rusty pickup truck. Millionaires like rusty pickup trucks, right?"

"_I_," Julian grinned, "Will be de money consultant. He has de money, and I have de party know-how." Kowalski frowned.

"Unfortunately, skipper, he is making perfect sense, though there are risks involved, disturbing the peace, overspending…"

"Alright, Julian," Nigel decided, having had enough of Julian's antics, "You can tag along." Suddenly Nigel blinked, realizing that Julian was now no longer bobbing about in front of him but on the outright opposite side of the room.

"De first thing I am going to be teaching you, Fred, about money is that you need to be getting stuff dat is sparkly…"

* * *

"What were you thinking, Ringtail?!" Skipper exclaimed, slamming the statement down on the table, "I was only authorized to spend three million max, and that was on the whole damn operation!"

"It was a wild party." Julian shrugged as if this were adequate explanation. Skipper, however, was now angrily pacing the floor of the closing club looking like he wanted to punch something, or someone. Julian glanced up, noticing that Fred was yawning. He levered himself up from the bar and stumbled over to where Fred was barely remaining standing with Maurice's assistance, "Come along, Fred, we will be needing to sleep dis off before de next lesson in extravagant spending. Do not be banging your head against de wall, Skipper, it is not becoming."

"Get out of my sight or it'll be your head slamming into the wall." Skipper growled. Julian shrugged and stumbled out the door, "What the hell possessed me to work with that nutcase?" Skipper sighed.

"It was, and still is, the most practical way of making sure his pestering isn't directed at you for 'patronage for the arts'." Kowalski replied logically glancing up distractedly from his phone, "Oh come on!" he snapped at the device.

"Yeah, but Nigel's gonna want to know who spent the three mil." Skipper replied grumpily.

"Well, embezzlement or overspending or whatever is still a relatively _harmless_ crime compared to…" Hans began icily.

"Not you too, Hans." Skipper snapped, "Say one more word about me throwing girls off ice cliffs," Kowalski winced at the crude description, "without evidence and you're going to regret it."

"And how exactly are you going to…?" Hans paused listening intently to an electronic beeping sound coming from Kowalski's pocket that he was absent mindedly ignoring due to whatever was on his phone.

"Boy if I get in a jam, with that new phone of yours you'll never know anything happened." Skipper grumbled, "What's that?"

"Oh!" Kowalski exclaimed pulling the second device out of his pocket. He grinned before replacing it in his pocket and returning to his phone, "Great science, foiled me again!"

"What was that alarm for?"

"It means the Squirrel just grabbed Fred."

* * *

"Nice place you've got here." Fred commented even as he was forced through the abandoned power station by two 'minions' who looked like they figured they didn't get paid half way enough to put up with this.

"Could use a few less security cameras." Julian added.

"Yeah, whatever." Muttered the minions.

"Just sayin'."

Fred and Julian were finally deposited on the floor of a mid-sized bunker-like room, one wall covered with monitors and other electronics. An iron door like one found in a submarine opened at the end of the room and a short, red haired man stepped out, his most distinctive feature being his faded black eye patch. Give him a cutlass, and he could be a pirate. A small one.

"You deposited the money in a bank account in Zurich by orders of your so called 'financial advisor'," The Red Squirrel looked demeaning down at Julian, "Give me all the information I need to access it." Fred looked at him blankly.

"I don't know," Fred shrugged, "That's what I have a financial advisor for." The Squirrel looked to Julian with his most menacing glare.

"It was so dull, always yacket yackety yackety about interest this and interest that," Julian moaned, "I made Mort listen to it."

"And where is this Mort?"

"I dunno." Julian replied, "I kicked him out somewhere." The Squirrel's eyes narrowed.

"You will tell me where this Mort with the account information is or I will…"

Like someone had thrown a switch the whole base suddenly went into turmoil. The alarms all blared in unison for about ten seconds before the bunker switched into the pale red light of the emergency generators but the computers were still dead. It couldn't be more than thirty seconds later after that when the metal door behind, and, fortunately a few feet to the right of Julian, was blown off its hinges by a powerful explosion. Skipper stepped into the doorway.

"Well, if Red isn't up to his old tricks." Skipper spoke, "Forty years in the business and you never learn: we always get you or you have to go hole up in some bunker till everyone thinks you're dead." The Squirrel looked almost animal as he shot daggers at Skipper. The he smiled and reached behind him on the desk. Cables shot out from the walls seeming to grab on to Skipper, pulling him back into one of the computer banks.

"Tradition is about to change." The squirrel gloated but Skipper was unperturbed.

"Classic mistake, Red Squirrel," Skipper's finger was noticeably rested above a red button, "That, would be the base self-destruct."

"And this," The Squirrel drew Skipper's attention to a button he was holding down, "Is the button that activates that robotic arm programmed to impale you." There was a slight pause.

"Well, this is a pretty pickle we've both gotten us in to." Skipper commented nonchalantly. But the Squirrel was thinking.

"Perhaps not. Do you remember those annoying little debts Julian racked up?"

"Maybe."

"If you release the button you can go free with enough money to pay that back without Nigel ever knowing it was missing." The Squirrel suggested.

"But what about those two?" Skipper asked nodding to Julian and Fred.

"You arrived too late, the transfer was completed and they were already dead. I, naturally, escaped." Skipper didn't seem to like that part, "You can embrace a little failure of you can end up impaled on a robot arm while the building crashes down around us." Skipper took a calming breath.

"Alright," He began, "Now Kowalski!"

As fast as earlier, the emergency generators shut down. They could push their buttons all they wanted, but no power, no action.

"And you thought I was playing Angry Birds!" Kowalski's voice scoffed over the intercom which had probably been allowed power for just that purpose, "Remote hacking, baby, courtesy of Nigel's tech boys!"


	10. Chapter 10

"See?" Julian mocked, "We _completely _trick-ed you!" He seemed to be doing some kind of a dance around the disgruntled eye patch clad captive, "In your face!"

"Ease off, Julian." Hans sighed but Skipper didn't seem to mind the teasing. Kowalski was entirely occupied by his new toy, only glancing up occasionally to ask Skipper why he didn't want to work for Nigel if Nigel seemed to have endless stashes of cutting edge tech. Skipper simply replied that it was something someone of a nerdy mind couldn't understand.

"Ah, but you are still out three million dollars!" The Squirrel spat, having taken enough abuse and decided to fight back. Skipper said nothing, "We're not as bad enemies as you think, I'm quite thankful to you for taking Dr Blowhole out of the picture. Nigel will be here in minutes, but it's not too late…"

"Red, if you've got money to bribe me, then three million is lying around here somewhere, probably one of your emergency stashes." Skipper countered, "Private?"

"Yes Skippah?"

"Take a look around."

"Yes Skippah." The boy scampered off into the bunker. The Squirrel's expression had soured but he wasn't outright worried.

"You ninnycompoopies will never find it." He sniffed, "You could search a thousand years…" Suddenly the Squirrel noticed Skipper was moving across the floor towards him. Skipper locked eyes with Rico and nodded. Rico grinned. Skipper grabbed the Red Squirrel by the collar and dragged him off into the next room.

* * *

Agent Nigel grimaced.

"Sure you don't. You just said: Doris is the talk of the underworld." Skipper's voice could be faintly made out in the next room, "And don't tell me you haven't got any kind of connection to Blowhole because your whole base is stuffed with his stolen tech."

"I don't know where she is!" The Squirrel countered. Skipper sighed.

"Rico…"

At around this point Nigel had taken out his phone and replaced whatever was going on in the next room with Brahms. Even then he was restless, flicking from one artist to the next. When Private had come back saying he'd found what looked like a file containing account numbers Nigel had shooed him off again. Nigel wasn't squeamish, he'd been in this business far longer than Skipper, but it didn't mean he had a taste for violence. And Skipper was being a little more violent than usual.

The iron door opened and Skipper and Rico stepped out. Rico seemed to be having the time of his life, and Skipper appeared more than a little satisfied – hopefully pleased by the end, not the means – but almost immediately he noticed Nigel's presence. He seemed to stiffen a moment then slipped back into the confidence that was Skipper.

"You didn't see anything."

"But I heard it." Nigel replied sourly.

"Not necessarily," Skipper countered, "since, he did just tell me where Doris might be hiding." Automatically Kowalski perked up, "He said to check on Moon Cat, he always knows where anyone important is." Nigel scowled.

"Of course we know that…"

"Yeah, but Red told us where to find him."

* * *

"See?!" Skipper snapped, storming into the room, the door making a loud bang as it slammed into the wall behind, "This is why I keep the location of where I'm on holiday classified!"

"Justice System catch up with you?" Hans inquired lazily. Skipper barely noticed the remark.

"I was doing just fine until Nigel had to go and broadcast my location." Skipper snapped throwing his phone across the room and onto the table, daring it to break, "Now I've got Rockgut calling me up saying "If you're gonna do a job for Nigel, cupcake, then you can handle a job for us." Do you know where that job is? Amsterdam!"

"Well that's too bad Skipper." Hans sighed, "You'll just have to miss the rendezvous with Moon Cat Max." However at this moment Skipper's expression blossomed into a smile Hans found distinctly unsettling.

"No, I'm going to be right here." Skipper grinned, "Kowalski, why don't you guess the option I've come up with." Kowalski was already writing frantically on his clipboard, having predicted that Skipper would prolong Hans' suspense by saying that.

"You're suggesting that Hans go in your place." Kowalski replied, "But Skipper, Hans might not…?"

"I'm not going anywhere, Skipper." Hans finished for him.

"Then I won't tell Kowalski where Moon Cat Max's rendezvous is going to be." Hans paused. If Skipper didn't give up the answer claiming it was Hans' fault he wasn't talking, Kowalski would be at him day and night, and after they'd missed Moon Cat he'd be more than a little angry.

"Alright." Hans muttered, "I'll go."

"Excellent," Skipper smiled, "You'll meet Manfredi and Johnson at Schiphol Airport. They'll text you the details before you fly out, those two knuckleheads love texting." Hans still looked more than a little uncomfortable, "Don't worry, those two are old hands – you've heard me talking about them. They'll do the job, and you relax and pretend you're me. What could possibly go wrong?"

* * *

Spitalfields market, Kowalski had been told, could get pretty crazy during office lunch break hour on a sunny day or other busy times but now it was actually undesirably under crowded. The greater the crowd, the less time it would have taken him to lose Skipper. As it was, via an intricate series of deceptions and mind games that consisted mostly of playing Skipper off his dislike of Hans, he managed to convince him that he'd received word from Moon Cat that they were to meet elsewhere then Kowalski returned to the original meeting sight.

He was starting to get nervous, though. It had been half an hour and Moon Cat still hadn't turned up. He could see the waitress was getting desperate for his table as lunch hour started to get into full swing but nobody fitting Moon Cat's description had been anywhere near the area. The Red Squirrel had said Moon Cat was meeting someone at Spitalfields at eleven o'clock today and Skipper had given him a full description of Moon Cat including his complete rap sheet, psychological profile and x-rays. Still, Skipper had mentioned that stakeouts or meet ups could turn out to be long waits. Sometimes long unfruitful waits, and those 'sometimes' weren't that rare.

Kowalski wasn't an expert at reading body language or anything but something about that woman standing by the pillar caught his eye. She was standing with her back to him wearing a long coat despite the warm weather and a hat. She had reddish-purplish hair put into braids that were mostly tucked under her coat, but that still wasn't unusual. But she looked so nervous, constantly wringing her hands, shifting her weight and changing her stance. She was stood very close to one of the metal pillars, not quite leaning against it but seemingly debating whether she ought to or not. And the odd thing was there was something familiar about her.

Kowalski distractedly set down enough cash to cover the bill, stepped out into the crowd of milling shoppers and began making his way towards the woman. When he was about three feet away she suddenly turned around like she sensed his presence. Her eyes widened in fear and she immediately set off through the crowd towards the outside area of the developed market, back towards Billingsgate and the station.

"Doris!" Kowalski called through the crowd that gossiped and giggled and seemed to be perpetually moving in the opposite direction to him, almost mocking him as it held him back. But he wasn't going to be held back, and he fought through that crowd like a New Yorker. He reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Let go!" She protested, and turned one or two heads.

"Doris, for the last time why are you doing this?" Kowalski pleaded much as he had on the train. Doris had that pained expression. Something or someone was doing this to her, it seemed to be eating away at her from the inside.

"I told you to leave me alone!" She tried to pull herself away again but Kowalski wasn't going to let go. He was _never_ going to let her go again, "Please Kowalski, you don't know who you're dealing with. I don't want him to kill you."

"Kill, me?" Kowalski countered, "He's already tried that. Doris, just at least tell me who you're running from." Doris glanced around like she was worried the crowd would carry her words to whoever she was afraid of.

"Someone almost as close to you as me." She answered cryptically. Then her eyes locked onto the distinctive helmet of a police officer, "Help!" She screamed catching the officer's attention, "Let me go!"

Kowalski could only watch as Doris drifted off into the crowd as the officer's arrived. One ran after Doris and she said something to him. He nodded grimly and looked accusingly at Kowalski but when he turned his back on her she was gone. He tried to follow but he didn't get very far. Kowalski protested his innocence weakly after that. He didn't really care; Doris was gone again for a second time, out there alone in the world with someone trying to kill her. She'd been living in fear of that person for three years, Kowalski could see it. She wouldn't live in fear a forth, not if he had anything to say about it.

As he was taken away Kowalski noticed a scrawny man with a twitching hand slinking away from the pillar. So Moon Cat was late for his meeting with Doris, but that hardly mattered now.


	11. Chapter 11

"So Agents have been going missing?" Hans questioned as the car sped along the flat, empty road, though not without its beauty. It was too early for tulip season so the famed flowers were just fields of green leaves that looked like cabbages or any other small green plant at the speed they were going at. They raced past a bicyclist.

"Well, we have found them." Johnson countered.

"Dead." Manfredi corrected bluntly, "Had to identify them by dental records. Bones stripped clean, poor devils."

"And we're retracing their steps." Johnson added. Hans grimaced.

"Skippar has found a creative way to get rid of me." He muttered.

"You aren't the first, buddy, Skipper's broken a lot of hearts, but that's all he'll break." Johnson attempted to comfort mistaking Hans' trouble.

"Unless, of course, you're a spy." Manfredi corrected, "This mission's perfectly safe. Unlike those other agents, we're prepared. We walk into traps all the time."

They pulled over to the side of the road, into the driveway of a small, two story cottage. Manfredi and Johnson stepped out, relaxed and confident. Hans was a bit more nervous. Looking around he noticed that the cottage was actually bigger than it looked from the road, an extra story descending the small ravine behind it, one of the few scars in the otherwise flat landscape. The river wound behind the house like a snake and some sailboats about two miles upstream rippled like scales.

"Mrs Maertens, as far as we know, was the last person to see them alive." Manfredi explained, "I figure we check ourselves in, get a good hearty meal and then see if she knows anything." Hans nodded quietly and played along. Just like Skipper had said, Manfredi and Johnson did all the work, charging everything to expenses. They were meticulous too, though, making sure Hans introduced himself and registered himself as Skipper, and even produced one of Skipper's many passports with his photo substituted for Skipper's. Apparently Rockgut really would check up on that kind of stuff.

It was a fairly pleasant experience, actually. While Skipper's stories of Manfredi and Johnson were normally misadventures with grievous consequences that they somehow managed to drag themselves out of, Manfredi and Johnson's perspectives were lighter and more amusing. In the end the experience was not unenjoyable with pleasant food and pleasant company such that he didn't realize how tired he was until he started on desert. In fact, Manfredi and Johnson were yawning too. The three of them felt so tired, that as Mrs Maertens took away the plates, they collapsed to the table.

* * *

Hans' head throbbed like mad as he finally gathered the willpower to open his eyes. And once they'd opened that tiny crack and he got a quick glimpse of the world around him they shot open.

"Manfredi! Johnson!" He hissed shaking the two agents awake. He wasn't in his room, or anywhere else that looked like a furnished dwelling either. The walls were solid concrete, the floors were dirt and directly in front of him Hans could see iron bars that divided their cell-like area from the rest of the concrete room. Opposite them the stairwell led back up to what Hans presumed was the house; assumedly they were in the extension he'd seen earlier. Next to his head, however, he'd noticed some words scratched into the cement. This was the first thing he drew Manfredi's attention to, "Manfredi," Hans whispered pointing to the words: "Rhonda Manderly, Agent 12", "Wasn't one of the missing agents named Rhonda?"

"Yeah." Manfredi muttered, still groggy, "But she was a double, we aren't too fussed about her."

"Good, you're awake." An unfamiliar voice spoke. There was a distinctive semi-lisp that added an almost reptilian quality to the voice. The accent was foreign, Hans guessed Spanish or trying to be, "You taste so much better when you're awake."

"I told you, Johnson, cannibals," Manfredi hissed, "but _no_, you said it was acid."

"Alright, I was wrong." Johnson admitted in a whisper.

"Permit me to introduce myself, delicious agents." The voice continued, stepping into view, and boy, if the voice sounded reptilian he looked just as much a snake as the voice. Especially the way he licked his lips, it was like a snake's tongue. "I am Savio, and I am looking forward to tasting you, and the agents that will inevitably come after you. Agent's Manfredi and Johnson, presume?" He examined the two agents, "I took the liberty of searching your effects." His eyes locked onto Hans and narrowed, "You don't look like Skipper. Are you an agent?"

"No." Replied Hans, "I sell fish." Savio looked nonplussed, "By the ton. I don't suppose you like fish?" Savio wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Such lesser foods, animal flesh." He took a syringe from the table then began to unlock the door of the cell. Manfredi and Johnson made a desperate dive for the door but were held back by heavy chains. He stepped inside, leaving the keys outside, and the door clicked shut as it closed. Savio completely disregarded Hans, moving towards the two agents with the syringe. Hans realized he was in range, Savio had obviously assumed that since he wasn't an agent he was helpless, and gave it his all. Savio stumbled and Hans snatched the syringe. Before Manfredi and Johnson knew what had happened, the syringe was sticking out of the cannibal's throat. Hans looked like he was about to throw up.

"Alright." Johnson spoke looking down at the body with a curious look like he was just trying to get over the suddenness of it, "We aren't going to be eaten alive."

"Yeah," countered Manfredi, "But now we're locked in here with a corpse."

* * *

"Here sir." The police man reported, "The charge is attempted kidnapping, sir, are you sure he's one of yours?"

"We get blamed for all kinds of stuff when someone doesn't want us to finish a case." Skipper replied as he neared the cell, "Well, Kowalski, aren't you glad I stayed behind?"

"She's gone again, Skipper." Kowalski replied dejectedly, "I was so close."

"Know how you feel, sir," The policeman sympathised, realizing that despite the fact he wanted to be cool and professional in front of the spies it really wasn't in his nature. Kowalski looked like he'd practically lost the will to live, "You're this close to getting them, innit, and they skip the country?" On Skipper's orders he unlocked the cell, releasing Kowalski. He provided him with instructions on how to retrieve his belongings, motioned to a place where Skipper and Kowalski could talk then tactfully left.

"Stop moping around, man!" Skipper snapped Kowalski out of his daze, "What did she do? What did she say? Come on, let's get some clues so we can find her again and hopefully I'll be there to make sure she doesn't get away before she talks, no matter what she's gotten into her head about your safety."

"She said she was running from someone almost as close to me as her." Kowalski replied quietly.

"Right, that's better." No it wasn't, Kowalski thought. Who were the people almost as close to him as Doris, and would have had the opportunity to sabotage her climbing gear then attempt to kill him? Rico, Private, Skipper and Hans. One of them had either turned into some kind of homicidal maniac or for some reason suddenly hated him and Doris enough that they were going through with all this.

Immediately Kowalski started to logically analyse the situation. The most likely suspect would be Rico, he had the maniac, even if he wasn't quite homicidal, if slightly psychopathic. However Skipper had often assured him that Rico was completely safe if you were considered a friendly. Rico had an indestructible loyalty that Skipper said he'd fight for the death for. Then there was Skipper, he knew how to kill, he'd know how to do it so it looked like an accident – and the job was masterfully done, the rope had been sabotaged so that it broke on the loop around the cleat so no damaged ends could be found. He'd loved Doris, Doris had turned him down and Kowalski was the reason for it. But then Kowalski remembered the look Skipper had given him when he hinted that he might have thoughts on his being the attempted killer.

Private, was, well, sweet innocent Private, but wasn't it always the one you'd least expect? That naiveté after spending so many years of being off and on guarded by Skipper and Rico and his taste for that crudely animated television show were kind of hard to believe. He was certainly smart enough to do it, juggling international politics like he did. Private called it politeness and following the lunicorns, Kowalski could just as easily see it as masterful manipulation. Then there was Hans. More likely Hans than Private, Private's love of the lunicorns was so ridiculous it couldn't be something someone had just made up. But Hans was no suspect either. They'd been together since the beginning, Hans had always been on good terms with Doris and he didn't like-like girls. He didn't like-like Kowalski either, and Kowalski had rather awkwardly asked once. Unless he or Doris had done something to Hans he had yet to know, Hans was motiveless, even if he had been the closest one to the accident. But he'd been about to sacrifice himself for Doris?

"Almost as close to you as her…" Skipper mused, "Got it!"

"What?" Kowalski inquired suspiciously. Skipper was looking way too happy, and he'd probably only be looking that happy if he was about to accuse Hans.

"You know how you always talk to your inventions?" Skipper asked, "Usually mad scientist nonsense, but… Kowalski, what's almost as close to you as Doris? Science? And who was the scientist closest to your field on the trip? Dr Lulu Malory." Immediately Skipper was making the reservations for a flight to Bern. The conversation lapsed there and apparently Skipper didn't quite like that, "By the way, our people picked up Moon Cat. Seemed Doris was trying to hire an assassin, no clue why… Uh huh, I can be in Bern by lunch tomorrow…"

"Don't you mean, we?" Kowalski questioned.

"Kowalski, you want to find Doris, right?" skipper questioned.

"Yes."

"Well Doris is in London, right?"

"Yes. Alright, I'll stay in London." Still, it did seem slightly odd to Kowalski that he wanted to go alone.


	12. Chapter 12

"But why is someone like Buck Rockgut picking on little me?" Moon Cat whined his hand twitching compulsively. He snapped his other hand onto it to hold it still, bit it was obvious he was more than a little intimidated.

"Look," Rockgut sighed, "As long as Skipper's chasing after that dame, he's not thinking straight."

"Yeah, that incident with Savio," Moon Cat concurred, "Skipper's head really isn't in the game." Rockgut raised an eyebrow wondering just how 'Moon Cat' Max knew about that.

"I wanna find the dame – I don't know, lock her up, make her talk, offer her an armed guard or a new identity - whatever will keep her away from Skipper. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"But I don't know where she is!" Moon Cat protested, "Alright, I contacted her, but we met in a random café in Covent Garden, and I don't follow or pry about clients. Well, not if they're a Blowhole."

"She wanted an assassin. Why?"

"I dunno, she said she was tired of running or something like that, that her brother had been right about some things, even if she didn't like it. That was all she told me. I gave her a name, and she left."

"And what was the name?"

"I recommended Lulu. I figured she'd be the most gentle on an amateur – you know, keep the price down and stuff, not be too intimidating. She'd met her before, too, you sent Lulu on the Antarctica job." Moon Cat complied. He noticed Rockgut frowning, "What, she's one of your best people?"

"She _was_ one of our best people."

* * *

Hans crawled out of the hole in the ground that was the beginning of the tunnel, drenched in dirt and sweat. Johnson looked up from the intricate patterns he was drawing on the dirt.

"My turn?" He questioned. Hans nodded, gasping up the air that was at least somewhat more breathable than down in the tunnel, even if Savio was showing signs of age.

"Y'know, this reminds me of that time Skipper got stuck on the Eiger," Johnson reminisced, "there was a rockslide, and Skipper got caught in it, broke an arm and a leg and was just dangling from a fraying rope – first time I'd ever seen him terrified. He was up there five hours before…"

"You told me this one already." Hans interrupted. Johnson shrugged and stood up, walked over to the hole and disappeared down it to assist Manfredi. In an half an hour he and Manfredi were going to swap places, so he was going to see if he could get some stuff done in that half hour.

Hans took out his phone. He'd already been informed by Manfredi that he'd rather they starved or rotted alongside Savio before the police were called in, not only because it would be humiliating to be merely bailed out, but also because Rockgut would apparently freak out about security. Manfredi had called Rockgut and Rockgut had informed them they were short staffed but would be able to get an operative out in two to three days. Well, they might or might not die, but none of them wanted to be stuck down there that long. Still, he could go online and read an article or two, text Kowalski, check on things in New York etc. He noticed a text from Skipper: "Gone to Switzerland. Tell Rockgut if he asks that I'm in Madagascar with Julian. He won't follow me there."

"Hans! We're just about through!" Manfredi yelled from in the tunnel, "come on down and start setting up the supports, we'll be out within the hour!" Hans was down there alright – except he got stuck with digging after setting up only a few supports – and forty five minutes later he broke through to the blue of the sky and took a deep breath of fresh air.

"We're out!" he yelled just about jumping out through the ground. Manfredi and Johnson gave a yell of joy and crawled through at double time after him. Then there was the sound of something shifting, and a groan of earth shifting before the whole thing collapsed down on itself. Manfredi's hand was just outside as the earth came down.

Immediately Hans had noticed a tool shed only a few meters away. He broke in the door and grabbed a shovel and started digging as fast as he could. Manfredi's hand clawed at the earth but soon began to slow. It was only three feet to dig but the earth just kept shifting. Finally he managed to get a shaft of air down to Manfredi and Johnson. Manfredi didn't look good, a deep gash where some rock had fallen on him marred his forehead and he was mumbling incoherently. Johnson, on the other hand was conscious, but he was buried in a much deeper section, partially under the house. The pressure was at a bad angle for Manfredi – he looked like he definitely had a broken arm if not ribs and legs, but it seemed to be crushing Johnson. It was then Hans noticed there was a wheelbarrow full of stone slabs over the earth. He moved that right away and resumed digging.

Finally he had the two of them out, neither of them looking good. He fished the car keys out of Johnson's pocket and jogged off in the direction of the car, which he drove over with and dragged the two in to. Then he broke every speed limit in the book getting them to accident and emergency.

* * *

Kowalski glanced at his watch for what seemed like the millionth time. He was well aware of how the shadow of one of Cambridge's gothic spires behind him grew longer and longer as time elapsed. It wasn't raining, the sky was as close to pure blue as spring in England had gotten so far, and the park was alright. He'd watched a punter get his pole stuck and topple into the Cam, and that had been funny for a while but now he was starting to get the sense he'd either been stood up or had misread the text. He re-read the text. He hadn't.

"Dreadfully sorry to have kept you waiting." Mason's voice behind him greeted. Mason was a tall, gawky fellow approaching thirty whose ears had always reminded Kowalski somewhat of a chimpanzee, as did his brother Phil. Phil practically looked like a twin, save that his hair was a slightly different shade of brown. Phil made a series of rapid fire sign language gestures to his brother who promptly translated, "Phil says that our lecture ran over." Kowalski glanced at his watch again.

"Well, alright, I can still catch the four fifteen to London." He sighed. The two students joined him on the bench.

"Well," Began Phil, "I hear you're after a girl. Blonde or brunet?"

"Do you remember Dr Doris Blowhole?" Phil raised an eyebrow and signed something to Mason.

"Don't speak ill of the dead, Phil! Yes, she might have been a bit harsh, but you were quite tardy a number of times!" Mason then seemed to notice he'd told his brother off in front of a somewhat estranged friend, "Sorry. Now what was it you wanted to know about Dr Blowhole – the non-evil one?"

"Well, for one thing she isn't dead." Mason and Phil looked thoroughly shocked by this but did a pretty impressive job of keeping it to themselves, "I wanted to know if anyone had been asking about her." Mason and Phil looked at each other.

"What about those odd chaps in red jumpers…?" Phil began rapidly signing, "Yes, quite right, they were odd." Phil pointed to Kowalski as if to say 'you need to translate for him', "Two men in red jumpers turned up at the collage along with a fellow in a long black leather coat wearing sunglasses. Looked like something out of the Matrix or an action film. He had an odd spike on his boot."

"Parker?" Kowalski inquired.

"He gave the name 'Smith'. They said Dr Blowhole – the evil one – had left some stuff behind with Phil when he was expelled. We took a look around and found a couple of old notebooks. They saw something they liked and left."

"What was in the notebook?" Kowalski asked.

"Well,…" Mason began, but Phil frantically cut him off, "Quite right, Phil. Quid pro quo, Kowalski. We'll give you the notebook if you do something for us."

"I don't proof read papers anymore."

"Not what we were thinking of, but tempting." Mason smiled, "Do you remember Dr Lulu Malory, the one who disappeared suddenly? I hear that not-a-secret-agent friend of hers found her address. Give it to Phil and you can have your notebook." Kowalski shrugged and scribbled the address and telephone number on the piece of paper indicated, "Excellent. The gentleman in the crazy outfit suddenly became very interested when he found reference to the old Craneby-Morrison mine, which, I believe, is on the border of Devon and Cornwall. Apparently young Dr – evil – Blowhole kept a nice little hide away from his family there where his tendencies towards the evil began to develop. You might check it out."

"Thanks."

"Oh, one more thing, Phil reads lips – brilliant trick for finding out what people are saying behind your back."

"I know." Kowalski answered, not quite seeing the relevance.

"But he saw guy with the spike on his boot say something about meeting someone with access to the Blowhole bank accounts somewhere in Greenwich, under the Thames." Mason explained. Kowalski caught onto his train of thought.

"And the only people with access to Blowhole's accounts would be one of the Blowholes," Kowalski concluded, "And they probably meant the foot tunnel at Greenwich."


	13. Chapter 13

"I do find it distinctly odd that Skipper would want to go alone." Private spoke as they passed the Cutty Sark mounted on its glass and steel dome, "Do you know if he got enough sleep?"

"How would I know that?" Kowalski questioned.

"I don't know. He might be acting odd because he's tired." Private explained, "He does act very odd when he gets tired. His paranoia goes quite off the charts."

"Duly noted." Kowalski acknowledged.

"'ee mean _re-ee _ off th' ch'rts." Rico added, seeing as Kowalski apparently wasn't taking it quite seriously enough.

They pushed to the front of a crowd gathered around a red brick circular structure, like a little Victorian red brick hut in the midst of the stone Georgian buildings and glass modern additions at the edge of the embankment.

"Can't go past here, sir." A police officer warned. Rico flashed a pass and the officer stepped aside.

"'oo of'cer in charge?" He asked.

"Detective Inspector X, sir." Rico emitted a low growl and stormed towards the red brick building. They'd barely gotten two feet inside when a sunglass clad man with a goatee who towered over all of them stepped into their path.

"Penguins," the man sneered.

"Civilian present!" Private hissed urgently but the man disregarded it.

"…I was wondering when you'd turn up again. Come to tie up another operation to get one of your Penguin buddies out of the clutches of the law?"

"We've just come to help." Private countered diplomatically, "Officer – Detective Inspector X, K'walski. K'walski, Detective Inspector X, formerly of the NYPD."

"They didn't believe me." X continued, "I told them you Penguins were behind everything… but no, they didn't want to make trouble with a secret government agency." He seemed to notice Kowalski's presence, "I suppose you're another Penguin?"

"By Newton's apple tree, I have no idea what you're talking about." Kowalski replied, "I'm just trying to find someone. Doris Blowhole?" X's eyes narrowed.

"What do you know about the victim?"

"Victim?!" Kowalski exclaimed, "Is she alright? What happened to her…?!"

"Doris Blowhole called nine nine nine at three am last night." X recounted, "She said she was in Greenwich Park and someone was following her. She said she knew who it was and that she thought she was about to be kidnapped. We sent a patrol car along that tailed her till she entered the tunnel, and they called in a second car to block the other side. There they heard a scream a few minutes after. One officer from the first car stayed outside to make sure nobody left while the other went inside.

"When the officer entered the tunnel was empty. There were signs of a struggle and some minor blood but the tunnel was definitely empty. The officers secured the scene and called in us. The second car on the Tower Hamlets side left to deal with another incident after half an hour and five minutes later we arrived. The forensics boys are just finishing up now." He looked demeaning down at the pass Rico held loosely in his hand, "And I suppose that pass of yours means I have to let you in and give you first choice on the evidence."

X moved aside allowing them to pass into the building. Inside the dome was an elevator as well as a set of steps spiralling around the elevator shaft. X called the elevator in stony silence.

"Do you have any idea who the kidnappers were?" Private asked as they stepped into the elevator, a modern steel affair, or at least modern in comparison to the rest of the Edwardian structure.

"None whatsoever." X replied, "Apparently she wouldn't say."

"That do' sound li' 'er." Rico muttered and Kowalski scowled at him, "Wha'?"

The elevator stopped and they exited into circular tunnel of white tile. Odd metal looking pegs formed a row down the centre of the ceiling and the concrete floor slanted slightly and smelled of damp, though was dry. Their footsteps echoed eerily as X progressed down the tunnel in the direction of the forensics people who were just clearing up.

"Human blood," Reported one of the investigators, "Type A-," Kowalski noticed the jagged area of tile that had drawn blood. Doris was A-, "traces of hair and skin found – human too." The investigator glanced over his shoulder, "I think we're done here."

"Go ahead." X replied, "Best to get out of the Penguins' way." The investigator looked at him oddly at the mention of 'Penguins' but left it alone, clearly eager to leave. The tunnel creeped Kowalski out too.

The scene was pretty simple and Kowalski could now see why it was so puzzling to the police. The tunnel was under the Thames for one thing, as well as devoid of doors or service hatches so the only way out was through the tunnel. The walls were entirely white tile aside from the section they were at where the tile disappeared, revealing solid metal girders. It looked like they were slowly working to retile it as one side had about two feet more tile than the other. Private explained that this was where the tunnel had been damaged during World War two. Workman's tools lay in the corner as well as a bucket, a long rectangle of plywood, and some masonry equipment, ostensibly to repair the tiles, though there were no loose tiles present. Kowalski assumed that they'd already been used.

The damp concrete floor had a thin layer of mud tracked in by tourists from the previous day contained several sets of muddled footprints like there'd been a struggle. A section of tile, partially broken away and jagged had apparently cut Doris when she hit it, drawing blood, though the impact hadn't been hard enough to have broken the tile as the damaged area was worn down and had a thin layer of dirty lime scale.

"How long after Doris entered the tunnel did the officers follow?" Kowalski asked.

"Some time, actually." X replied, "They didn't enter until they heard the scream, so it could have been up to three minutes, but no more. Still, the other car had blocked off the Tower Hamlets side almost immediately. There wouldn't have been time for her to reach the other side, even running, before they turned up." Kowalski nodded thoughtfully, taking all this down on his clipboard.

"So the kidnappers had to have already been in the tunnel, they probably just used a decoy or something to herd her in there after they realized she'd called the police." Kowalski concluded, "Yes, that fits, it would have given them time to prepare. And the second car left to deal with another call, so the tunnel wasn't guarded at both sides between the kidnapping and when you arrived on the scene?"

"The tunnel was empty; it didn't need to be guarded." X defended.

"And I assume there wasn't an officer _in_ the tunnel the whole time either." Kowalski concluded and X didn't correct him, "Rico?"

"'eah?" Rico replied, just as mystified as the rest of them. Kowalski moved over to one side of the tunnel, the opposite side to the broken tile and the blood stain, the one that was longer than the other, and beckoned for Rico to follow. He paused in front of the section of wall then rapped on it like he was knocking on a door. The sound that returned was hollow. Rico took his cue there and smashed through the wall with a solid punch. He proceeded to wrench the tiled plywood board clear from the wall revealing metal plating like the tunnel beyond. Behind it, the gap between two bolted together plates formed a perfect hiding space just big enough to fit two people.

"I thought it was odd that one side of the tunnel should have more tile than the other." Kowalski commented, "There's your answer, Detective Inspector," Kowalski concluded motioning to the cavity, "Your kidnapper knocked Doris out then hid behind that panel he'd probably pre prepared when his two associates warned him that Doris was being tailed by the police. Your officers searched the tunnel but didn't find anything. After they departed the kidnapper left the hidey hole, replacing the panel then exited out the Tower Hamlets side when the second car left."

"What's this?" Private interrupted, bending down and picking up a folded piece of paper that had been on the floor of the cavity, ""You owe me €200,000 in services. If you want your sister back alive leave the money (plus an extra million interest) in a suitcase at the Edgware Road Hilton under room no. 312 which will have just checked out. I want it in twenties or smaller, old bills. Don't even try giving me anything with consecutive serial numbers or marked bills."" Private read aloud, "Sounds like Parker didn't get paid before you put Blowhole in a coma." He realized that sounded a bit mean and immediately apologised.

"Well, that explains why he cemented the panel in place after he left." Kowalski mused, "He correctly assumed Detective Inspector X wouldn't discover the panel, but assumed Blowhole would work it out." A more than debatably arrogant smile appeared on Kowalski's face, "Well, Parker, there's more than one genius on this planet!" X rolled his eyes. Rico shrugged in reply.

"But where'd he take her?" X demanded, "Don't have an answer to that one, do you?"

"Actually, I do." Kowalski countered. He tore a bit of paper off his ubiquitous clipboard and collected a sample of dirt from one of the footprints then pocketed it. He started for the tunnel's exit.

"That's it?!" X demanded, "Just take a sample of dirt and run?" Kowalski didn't justify him with an answer.

"I have a feeling," Kowalski whispered when the echoes could no longer carry his words back to X. He didn't want outside involvement in this, "That when I test this sample it will match the soil in the area of a certain abandoned Cornish mine."


	14. Chapter 14

Skipper pressed the doorbell and glanced at his watch. You never could tell when it came to checking up on suspects, so put it away again without trying to guess which plane he was going to end up catching. There was a shuffling behind the door and it opened revealing the English Environmental Scientist and previous colleague of his. He never did find out why one day she just left Penguin in her prime. Lulu a pretty girl in a small town kind of way and with a pair of tortoise shell glasses she played the part of the professor perfectly, though she wasn't much older or in less physical shape than himself. What sold most people, though, was her habit of batting her eyelashes and looking blank but interested while she was really three steps ahead of you.

"'Afternoon, Lulu." Skipper greeted civilly, "I'd have called ahead, but you were out."

"Ah Skipper," Lulu smiled in recognition, "It's been a long time. Hoboken, '07?"

"More recent, and I wasn't on that one, that was Rico. I think it was Antarctica, three years ago." Skipper replied, "Can I come in?"

"Yes, sorry." She stepped aside motioning through into a small hallway. At the other end of the hallway was the living room. As Skipper moved down the hallway he noticed an door left ajar to his right that led into the kitchen.

"Thanks." Skipper muttered. Everything seemed perfect so far, as his eyes scanned the room – but then what did he expect? A diagram of fifteen ways to kill someone on an Antarctic expedition? Suddenly Skipper felt himself jerked backwards. He glanced down to see that the pocket of his jacket had caught on the valve of an oxygen cylinder rested on the floor, breathing mask attached. Looking down past that he saw a collection of various climbing equipment, "So how are things since you dropped off the grid?" Skipper asked conversationally as he accepted the seat on an antique looking chair he was offered. He was uncomfortable with its position with his back to the door, but he figured he'd hear if the front door opened and as far as it appeared, they were alone.

"Oh, fine, just fine." Lulu answered. She motioned to a photograph on the coffee table that depicted two boys around eight and ten that shared some similarities with Lulu, "I work avalanche control for the skiing in the Jungfrau region, it pays well and it's near my cousins." Skipper was left to assume that the boys in the photograph were her cousins. He'd never seen Lulu in her personal life, well, he had picked her up from her apartment once, but she'd never given him any window into it even when he asked. He figured Lulu was trying to appear innocent by giving the impression of having become completely normal, "I assume you're here for the climbing?"

"Skiing." Skipper replied with a noticeable grimace.

"Yes, that story Manfredi and Johnson like to tell about you on the Nordwand. They claim it was the only time you'd ever been truly trapped…"

"Well, that's their opinion." Skipper interrupted awkwardly.

"It's good to see you again, Skipper, especially when it's not work, but…"

"I don't turn up unless there's something going on that something important depends on," skipper finished for her, "No, you're right, I'm not just stopping by to see you. I've been assigned to do a follow up investigation on Doris Blowhole's accident –" Lulu looked slightly uncomfortable at this so Skipper decided to try the more casual approach, "some relative or another's putting up another claim that it wasn't an accident. I just wanna ask a few questions then I can type up the report and finish my leave."

"Go ahead. Just be conscious of time, though, I need to pick up my cousins."

"Well, you'll never believe this but people are saying you were the one with the most motive to have killed her. You're academic career took off after Doris' death, right? You were both vying for the same job?"

"Yes, in a way." Lulu replied with a small, brittle laugh, "But I wouldn't _kill_ over it. After all, it was only a cover."

"Till a few months after the accident."

"Well…" It was then Skipper heard the computerized tones of a phone ringing, presumably from the kitchen, "Excuse me a moment." She stood up and took a door to Skipper's left that he assumed linked back around to the kitchen.

He didn't even hear any footsteps before a sharp crack across the back of the neck left him unconscious.

* * *

Rico was still staring at the steering wheel like it was a juicy steak. He looked to Kowalski and once again Kowalski shook his head.

"Not a chance." Kowalski added to reinforce this. Rico looked disappointed and resumed cleaning a hunting knife.

"It's nothing personal, Rico," Private saw fit to cut in, "It's just that we're in a traffic jam and you're not exactly the best kind of driver for these circumstances." He glanced awkwardly out the window at the fellow semi stationary cars like a kid about to say something he knew was naughty, "I did tell you not to take the M4 on a Sunday evening."

The cheerful electronic 'ding!' of Kowalski's phone interrupted what was about to be a heated conversation debating the merits of having taken the A30 and that there really weren't any non-crowded routes to get from London to Devon.

_"Lulu's nervous about something, I can feel it in my gut."_ The text read.

_"You and your gut."_ Kowalski replied, some of his annoyance at the cars in front of him bleeding into the text, _"Text me when you have some actual facts."_ The little '…' that indicated the other person was typing appeared under Kowalski's last text.

_"Climbing equipment and oxygen tank near door ready to go."_

_"So she climbs."_

'…'

_"Hidden behind coats. Pocket caught on oxygen cylinder otherwise wouldn't have found it. Lulu shows tell tail signs of nervousness, references unusually frequently cousins."_ Kowalski considered this briefly.

_"Trying to convince you she's out of the game. Do you think it's her?"_

Nothing. Kowalski waited several minutes and sent a few more texts but none of them went through. He tried calling Skipper but got voicemail. Now he was getting worried. The phone didn't even ring, so it wasn't as if he simply wasn't picking up and Kowalski couldn't think of many places in a house where Skipper would suddenly lose all cell phone service.

The traffic lurched into motion but it took a few annoyed blasts of the horn from cars behind him to get Kowalski moving. Kowalski wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to do. He tried to call Manfredi and Johnson and initially panicked when they didn't pick up either then remembered they were in hospital as Hans confirmed when Kowalski called him. Hans wasn't much help, though, he was in an area with bad reception or on a train or somewhere with a lot of background noise. The call ended fast and Kowalski noticed it was surprisingly cheap for roaming. Kowalski called Julian but Julian had left Skipper hours ago and was now back in London.

"That's it, something's happened to him – I know it!" Private finally decided, "K'walski, turn us around and head back to that town with a train station."

"'ee 'oo." Rico agreed solidly.

"Then you keep on going to find Doris, she's in danger too." Private interrupted before Kowalski could bring up the awkward point in turning back.

"Well at least Parker'll keep Doris alive until…" Kowalski began but Private wasn't having any of it.

"We've gotten Skippah out of jams before; he'll be fine without you."


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing Skipper was aware of was the pain around his ankle. That, and the fact he was upside down, but that wasn't all that unusual to him. Usually after he was knocked out he'd have the similar feeling of ropes around his legs – he could feel something around his arm and shoulder too, a crudely wrapped but effective rope keeping his left arm motionless and his right suspended backwards above his head – and soon enough would come the high pitched voice of Blowhole in his ear. Nobody was speaking, though, all he could hear was the loud whistling of wind. So he was suspended somewhere high up and from the unorthodox way he was held he figured whatever demise someone had planned for him was supposed to look like an accident. It didn't really matter, though, he'd get out. He always did.

Skipper opened his eyes and after his eyes adjusted to the dark came face to face with a wall of solid rock and ice. Then suddenly the world spun around and he was facing out at the world before him. But he knew that view.

"Ah, midnight in the Alps, you've only been out a few hours. You remember being up here, don't you?" A voice spoke above and behind him. He couldn't see the speaker, but he recognized the voice, alright, "Trapped, going numb with the pain of gravity pulling at two broken limbs, feeling as you literally began to freeze. I guess you were thinking you might lose your hand or your foot or something to frostbite. Despite what you always kept saying about looking forward to you retirement, I know you couldn't bear being taken out of the field."

"You of all people know guys like Blowhole routinely drop me in rooms full of lasers, tanks full of man eating leopard seals and sharks, I'll be out of here in three minutes tops." Skipper countered, but there was a waver to his voice he couldn't control. It was the same little crevice, out of the view of anyone who might rescue him, but exposed to the cold winter air. Already he could feel the cold winter wind whipping through the tears in his jacket.

"Despite your paranoia, Skipper, you were always so ready to train us in the ways of the great master spy, and always ready with an amusing classified story." the voice continued, "If you hadn't taught me that day on the ice breaker how to sneak up on someone like you in an arrogance induced lapse of judgement, and if Manfredi and Johnson hadn't been so eager to tell everyone that the only place you couldn't escape from was this very crevice in the Eiger, you might not be here." There were few people Skipper trusted. He didn't spill classified data to anyone, only a handful of trusted agents like Manfredi and Johnson, Lulu and Rico and close friends like Kowalski, Private and Hans. Rest assured that if he somehow lived through this he'd never trust another living soul again.

"Rockgut will come after me, and then you'll really be in for it."

"And what will he find? A frozen corpse tangled quite accidentally in his own climbing gear? I heard that back at Penguin they've placed bets on whether your end would come about by occupational hazards or all those extreme sports you love doing. I heard Rockgut's bet is on the extreme sports, specifically mountain climbing."

* * *

Kowalski had taken longer to get to the mine than expected, his actual arrival being the next day. The detour, having to replay one of the most crowded stretches of traffic, had set him considerably behind schedule. Without the immediate fear of Rico taking over the wheel to keep him awake he found himself beginning to drift off after going nearly three days with barely that number of hours in sleep between them. After stopping for some shut eye that without which would increase the odds of never reaching Doris due to his driving off a cliff or a bridge or into a river to 97% and oversleeping by several hours, he made it to the mine by mid-morning.

Kowalski concealed the car off the road about a quarter mile away from the mine shaft and proceeded to walk the rest of the way. Skipper's sudden disappearance had him worried, and not so much for skipper. Well, he was worried about Skipper, but more what it meant about Doris, well, and Skipper. He'd called Nigel to report Skipper's disappearance and Nigel had agreed to pass it on to Rockgut but traded Kowalski a considerably disturbing piece of news about what Doris had succeeded in procuring from Moon Cat. That put a whole new angle on Skipper's disappearance that increased the chance from 37% that he was dead to 78%. But what worried him most was that Hans probably had been right; that Skipper had really severed Doris' rope when he checked her gear because he hadn't been able to bear the fact she'd picked Kowalski over him.

Kowalski followed a line of tracks that led down into a tunnel in the earth. He listened for a moment to reassure himself he was probably alone before switching on a flashlight. The tunnel was roughly cut into the rock with various supports of materials so blackened it was impossible to determine at a glance what they were. It was pitch black, and the only sounds were the eerie echoes of droplets of water landing in the muddy puddles on the floor, but Kowalski noticed a considerable amount of rust had been scraped from the tracks and some shiny new repairs were present. One of those tracks had been used recently, and he followed that track.

Immediately Kowalski killed the light the moment he saw the human silhouette outlined in it, but it was too late. As footsteps echoed menacingly towards him Kowalski decided he was better off facing this new enemy with the benefit of sight than without and switched the beam back on, shining it in the newcomer's face who blinked and raised a hand to shade his eyes.

"Hans!" Kowalski exclaimed joyfully as he recognized the familiar face.

"Kowalski?" Hans replied, "Would you get that light out of my eyes?"

"Sorry." Kowalski turned the light so it was no longer directly pointed at Hans, "How did you find your way here?"

"I asked Phil and Mason, who else do you ask?" Hans replied matter of factly, "I assume that's how you got here."

"Yeah," Kowalski replied, "Found anything?" Hans nodded.

"Follow me. Quietly."

Kowalski followed Hans through more darkened tunnels for only a few meters before they came to a sharp bend. After that bend the tunnel was well lit by modern industrial lights and Kowalski could just hear the hints of voices. As he got closer still those voices became audible.

"…Blowhole hasn't said anything yet but the note's gone." Parker's voice spoke, "He's planning something, so that's why we're moving her."

"But where?" Another voice asked.

"For all I know you were the one who tipped him off. You and Stacy have been paid off; this will be it for your involvement."

Hans motioned that Kowalski could continue further down the tunnel. He stopped when they came to a kind of gap in the rock where the tracks became a ledge about ten feet above the space below them. Kowalski could see Parker packing the floor anxiously, the spike on his boot glinting green with poison. Two tough looking women who looked like twins were watching over Doris' nervous form.

For the next few minutes both Kowalski and Hans listened intently to Parker's conversation. The jist of it was he going to move Doris to some secret location the next couple of minutes and he'd be the only one who knew where. Without a Skipper or a Rico to make mincemeat of the bad guys Kowalski realized that they were going to have to somehow distract Parker then grab Doris before she disappeared possibly forever. Fortunately, a main power isolation switch suggested the perfect method. Unfortunately, that switch was in a very awkward position just out of arms reach below them.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your trust in me?" Kowalski asked.

"Are you anywhere near a lab?" Hans asked sceptically.

"Assume task at hand be entirely isolated from scientific research and other intellectual theory."

"Ten, I'd trust you with my life." Hans replied, still not seeing what Kowalski was getting at. Kowalski pointed to the switch on the wall, "Awkward place to put a light switch." Hans remarked, realizing what Kowalski intended to do. Hans also realized, that if Kowalski's grip slipped, he'd fall directly in front of Parker. With a short pause to gather his nerve, Hans reached out over the edge, Kowalski slowly lowering him till he was about an inch away from grabbing the switch, "Almost there, a little lower." He hissed up at Kowalski. Kowalski groaned something back about lab work not requiring great strength but complied with the request.

Then suddenly something happened, either Kowalski couldn't take the weight or his foothold slipped but both of them went tumbling over the edge. Parker turned around.

"Kowalski!" Doris gasped, but stifled whatever else she was going to say.

"Ah, so this is Kowalski." Parker spoke eying the newcomers, "Blowhole never could stop talking about you, he was always going on about either beating you at the next Invexpo or whatever happened up in Antarctica and how he was so glad his sister didn't decided on his arch enemy." Parker glanced at his watch, and it was clear they were now completely irrelevant to him. He grabbed Doris roughly by the shoulder and started for one of the exits, "Kill them."

"You want Blowhole, right?!" Kowalski shouted. Parker stopped, "He's in a coma."

"He's pulled that one before to get out of paying his bills." Parker countered sceptically, "I don't fall for the same trick twice."

"Alright…" Kowalski was now thinking so fast even his clipboard couldn't keep up, "You want Blowhole's attention. Well, Blowhole wants Skipper, and I'm a good enough friend of Skipper's that he'll do whatever you want if you've got me." Of course, he was just signing away his own life. Skipper was dead, and if he somehow wasn't, he was only looking for an opportunity to get rid of him. But the point was Doris, wasn't it? Hans would look after her.

"Okay, you can come too."

"But it's a trade," Kowalski continued, "Hans and Doris for me." Parker rolled his eyes.

"I already have you and if you don't cooperate, you're dead."

"Do you think death means anything to a man in love?" Parker paused, glancing nervously from Doris to Kowalski. He shrugged.

"Alright, Kowalski, you for the girl and Hans. Deal?" Kowalski paused. He wasn't sure what made him pause, but something didn't feel right. Facts, data were flying around his mind like a lab report in a hurricane (he'd had the experience) but he couldn't piece it together. There was something just beyond his mind's grasp, "Well? I haven't got till the next century."

Did it matter if it was the unified theory? It was Doris' life.

"Deal."

And then the pieces fit together.

What had he just done?!


	16. Chapter 16

"Wait…!" Kowalski yelled, but Parker was too sceptical for his own good.

"A deal's a deal, Kowalski, no matter what I need to do to get you to keep your end." Parker cut him off, "Becky, Stacy, make sure those two find their way outside, then you're done." He ordered. The two women who looked like sisters moved towards Doris and Hans, looking quite bored with their last assignment.

"Alright, you two," the woman Parker had addressed as Becky sighed, "let's get…" it all happened so fast Becky didn't even get the chance to scream after her words trailed off. Maybe she did, but Kowalski couldn't hear it over the three gunshots in quick succession. Parker, Becky and Stacy were dead instantly. Immediately Kowalski was running towards Doris, he knew who was going to be next though he equally knew Hans wouldn't hesitate to kill him to get to her, but maybe he could find them some kind of cover before Hans turned on them.

"That's far enough, Kowalski." Hans spoke, the weapon he'd stolen from Becky's holster trained on the scientist. He eyed Kowalski carefully, almost as if he were reading him, "How'd you work it out?"

"I should have guessed from the very beginning," Kowalski spoke bitterly, "I don't know why you thought not telling me would protect me," He said to Doris, "but you still told me a lot without realizing it."

_"Doris, I guarantee you, if you attempt to get any message out to this 'Kowalski' character or anyone else you will be dead within three weeks, a victim of careless driving in a mountainous area or something similar, an accident just like in Antarctica, am I understood?" _

"It just seemed to be a strange thing for him to say, Blowhole's not really the type that goes in for accidents, he's too dramatic," Kowalski explained, "and he couldn't have sabotaged the equipment in Antarctica, as I'll explain later. It makes sense now, though. If she'd said anything to me chances are you would have intercepted the message or noticed a change in my behaviour. My ignorance was the only thing keeping the both of us alive."

"That still isn't proof, there might have been a multitude of reasons why he couldn't kill Doris in a way that could be traced back to him, and he might have thought she thought he'd caused her accident," Hans replied casually, refuting him out of more of a morbid interest than any hope that Kowalski would be unable to prove Hans' crimes.

"Oh, it was more than that. You weren't such a master criminal, Hans, you left a lot of clues. I just trusted you too much to notice any of them."

"Skipper said something similar, you know." Hans mused, "Or did I say that to him?"

"Where is Skipper?" Kowalski snapped, "What did you do with him?"

"Oh, an accident." Hans replied, "For me to know and you to never find out and all that kind of stuff. Go on, what were my mistakes? I'd like to learn from them."

"When you tried to kill me," Kowalski began, "you made the mistake of speaking before I heard the door open. You'd already been in the room the whole time."

"But what about Doris?"

"Up until the end it could have been either you or Skipper. It couldn't have been anyone before because then Skipper would have found the flaw in the ropes when he checked them: Rico handed out the gear, then Skipper checked the ropes, then you and Doris were on the same rope so you would have handled it after that. If Skipper had sabotaged the gear you wouldn't have known and if you had it would have been after Skipper checked so neither would he.

"But it couldn't have been Skipper. If Doris hired Lulu to kill whoever was after her as per her brother's suggestion she couldn't have killed Skipper in the way she did, not in a way that wouldn't bring Rockgut onto her for murder. Lulu _was_ one of Rockgut's top agents but I'll bet she was discharged for medical reasons: the oxygen tank that Skipper found was too big to climb with, if the top of it, the bottom rested on the floor, caught on the pocket of Skipper's coat, too heavy for diving too. Lulu's house is also a single story cottage because she can't handle stairs anymore. If she can't handle stairs, how could she either kill Skipper or knock him out then drag him out of the house to dispose of the body? When Skipper sent his last text he was in Lulu's house. Of course, if Skipper really had been the saboteur you could have just let Lulu do your work for whatever reason you'd wanted Skipper out of the way. And it could have been anyone but you because Julian was flying over the Channel at the time and Private and Rico were with me.

"Instead you got to her first, I assume you kidnapped her cousins or made her think you did which would explain why she referenced them so much. After you had Skipper there alone, he was at your mercy. Lulu was a witness, so I can only assume she's dead too."

"Correct on all accounts."

"You're clever when it comes to not being responsible for things. Even Blowhole you tricked me into getting rid of. I assumed you'd given me your only weapon but knowing you, you hadn't. You simply broke the unspoken peace treaty by drawing first, which I couldn't see because you were standing behind me, which caused Blowhole to retaliate. Naturally, you assumed that if someone pulled a gun on me I'd shoot back on impulse, thanks to Skipper's training, and shoot lethal."

"But what about my motive, I'd be curious to know if you'd guessed that along with everything else."

Kowalski paused. Up until now, he actually hadn't been thinking of motive. In fact, he had no idea why Hans had done what he'd done.

_"I guess I've already lost you to her, haven't I?" _

In his dream Doris had said that, but it was so out of sync with the rest of the dream that in the current context he doubted it was. It was more likely something he'd heard Hans say while he was still half asleep.

"Money." Kowalski spoke. Hans smiled.

"You are as smart as you claim to be, I was never sure. As I said to Private on the plane, I've become accustomed to a certain lifestyle. The two of us make the perfect team. I have the ideas and you make those ideas come true. Neither of us could get anywhere without each other. If one of us were to leave," his previously genial expression darkened, "it would be over. I knew we were destined for great things all the way back in Antarctica. In fact, I'd been pretty certain we were about to find those fish and there were a few inventions of ours that since then have become as popular as I'd predicted. Marrying Doris would be a death sentence for that. Slowly she'd demand more of your attention, time, she might want you to start a family, sell out and retire."

"But what about Skipper and me?" Kowalski asked.

"You, well, that was a temporary lapse of judgement. I'd given up hope at that point – I figured if you were going to spend the rest of your life chasing after Doris I might as well eliminate the possibility that you might catch her." Kowalski was looking for options now, but Hans' attention was all on him. He couldn't move an inch in the directions of Stacy or Parker (sources of weapons) without tipping off Hans, "Skipper," Hans continued and for the first time he looked half human, "I once heard that when you boil it down, people kill for greed, fear or love. I tried to kill Doris and her brother for money, you out of fear I'd lose you, and Skipper… he got too close to me. After all what good would our team be if _I _was the one who went off and got married? I tried to just end things with him, but as long as I knew he was somewhere on this planet some part of me would be distracted by him."

"Do you know what would end our partnership?" Kowalski argued, "Killing me or Doris." Hans sighed.

"I'm sorry, Kowalski, but I have to. It's too late now to salvage anything… I might as well just get rid of the witnesses."

It was then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a change in Doris' expression, a subtle kind of resolve that had crept into the pure fear. He'd noticed a change in her physical position too: she was now backed up against the wall, her hand rested on a wooden table next to her. Catching his eye too she mouthed four words.

"Get into the tunnel."

Kowalski had no idea what she intended to do but she had an idea and he wasn't about to question it. The question was, how was he going to get back into the tunnel?

"So what happens to us?" Kowalski asked.

"An accident." Kowalski glanced behind him.

"I'm guessing you're going to cause a collapse in one of the unstable tunnels," Kowalski continued, "I guess it'll look like we were trying to get out when luck just didn't go our way." Hans considered this a moment.

"Actually, I was thinking of something else but that's better." Hans' attention followed Kowalski's previous glance back at the tunnel behind them, "Always good to have a scientist handy, I never would have guessed that tunnel was structurally unstable." Hans directed the two of them back into the tunnel that led outwards, never taking his eyes off them for a second. He moved back to the table on which Parker had left what looked like explosives. He picked up one, glancing away briefly to sum it up.

Doris had been holding something behind her back and now he could see it clearly. It was a metal box with a red light that was lit up and a switch. It was a detonator. She barely paused before flipping the switch.

The whole tunnel shook with the force of the explosion, which was small, but well placed. Almost immediately the larger cavity where Hans was stood was gone in a shower of rubble. Even they weren't safe, cracks seemed to be appearing in the stone around them as Doris and Kowalski ran out of the tunnel, finally stumbling unscathed into the day light outside.

Kowalski wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but Doris stood there watching the entrance to the mine for about two minutes, expressionless. Finally she turned around and followed Kowalski back towards the car.

"Parker had been planning to blast the place to destroy any evidence," she explained quietly, evidently believing that an explanation was in order, but at this point Kowalski didn't want to hear any more explanations or play anymore mind games.


End file.
